


Given A Chance

by someonethatsfunny



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blackmail, Canon Compliant, Changing POVs, Communication Failure, Heavy Angst, Implied Blackmail, M/M, OT5, They work it out though, set in second half 2014, they cry a lot. harry especially. i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-13 03:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonethatsfunny/pseuds/someonethatsfunny
Summary: ~October 2014~“I don't—” Harry starts, then pauses, looking away before closing his eyes. Louis bides his time by staring intently at the blue veins barely visible on the pale skin of Harry’s eyelids, since Harry won’t look at him. This is all wrong. Louis has always had a bit of a sixth sense and he has always been able to read Harry. So not knowing what’s going on inside Harry’s head scares him.“Haz?” His voice sounds small, even to him.Harry's hands tremble by his sides. A chill rapidly fills the space between them, swirling its dark tentacles around Louis, gripping him like an unwelcome hug that he can't push away. He shivers from the cold anxiety threatening his bones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About posting: The fic is completely written and has 7 chapters. I will be posting 1/day for a week.
> 
> This fic was a challenge for me to write - a diversion from my usual lighthearted domestic fluff. I hope that if you've read other works of mine that you will still give this a chance. I wanted to toy with some of the emotions that I imagined they might've experienced when dealing with the things that they've had to face. I tagged it as canon compliant because it's the closest fit, but just a small disclaimer *** I don't necessarily believe that this is *exactly* what happened. So please don't come after me. Liberties were taken because this is fic and as such, not real. Having said that, please do not send or share this with anyone related to or including the boys. Please do not repost anywhere.
> 
> I want to extend a huge thank you to Nic for being an incredibly patient beta! You made this fic so much better and I will be forever grateful! And to Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! And finally to Jacky for pre-reading and being lovely as always :)) I love you guys a lot!!

_~October 2014~_

 

Three days ago, they were happy. Ridiculously so.

Three days ago they finished rehearsals early and gleefully headed back to their flat. Happy, in love, and thrilled at the prospect of having a few hours to spend together. After a few rounds of FIFA, they ordered takeaway and ate off of each other's plates whilst snuggled up together under a fluffy blanket with a bottle of champagne clutched between them.

They had no reason to open it. Just each other and time and that was enough. They were already happy, but the champagne made them positively giddy. Louis snorted bubbles out his nose at something ridiculous Harry said and that sent Harry spiraling into an even louder fit of giggles.

It evolved into a slightly drunken pillow fight, which ended with Harry's back pressed to the sofa and Louis slotted in between his legs grinning down at him. Feathers fluttered all around them as Louis stared down at Harry, smiling like he'd hung the moon and all the stars just for him. It felt like he was looking at his future. His forever.

They kissed, soft plush lips locked together, moving languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Eventually, their kisses deepened and their bodies pressed closer together. Not long after, they fell into bed together, a tangled mess of limbs.

Harry pushed inside of him slowly, his bright green eyes never breaking contact with Louis’. Silent words passed between them. _I love you._ Louis’ body arched off the bed, pushing their bodies closer together. They moved together, as one, rocking deep and slow all the while staring into one another's souls. _Always._

Breathless gasps and gentle moans filled the air as waves of pleasure crashed over them at the same time. They rode the crest out together until they finally stilled, sated and happy. They were _so_ happy. That night, they fell asleep naked, bodies intertwined, gently holding on to one another.

Looking back, Louis wishes that he'd held on a little tighter.

Because that was only three nights ago and somehow everything has changed.

~~~

 

The room is a sad space, nothing more than a box with four gray walls. It’s small and sterile with no windows. There's a cluttered desk in the corner, stacked with messy piles of paper, and an uncomfortable looking chair tucked underneath it. It's probably some poor intern’s office, though figuring out who it belonged to hadn't ranked very high on Louis’ priority list when he found it.

Satisfied with the privacy it offered, he motions Harry through the doorway, careful not to touch him as, much to Louis’ dismay, touching seems to be off-limits. The space is smaller than he thought, so when their skin brushes against one another accidentally, Louis flinches as if he’s been burned. Restricting himself from touching Harry is actually proving itself painful. That’s why they need to be alone for this discussion. Louis needs answers. Deserves them.

Harry's been distant for days, but this latest bit, a mere five minutes ago? Flinching from Louis’ touch during rehearsals? Just the smallest brush against his elbow, meant to be a comforting gesture?

It _hurt_.

Louis is at a complete loss, frustrated and confused at the rejection. His head spun in circles, trying to come up with a possible reason for this abrupt change, but he keeps coming up blank. So Harry needs to explain himself before Louis loses it in front of the other boys and their team.

And this conversation can't wait any longer. Louis tried to talk to him the previous night, but Harry eluded his efforts. First by claiming to have back pain which required a long, hot shower. Alone. Then he quietly snuck off to bed without telling Louis. By the time Louis fell into the sheets, Harry was snoring quietly, body turned away from him and face turned into his pillow. He knew then that something was wrong because they never went to sleep without saying goodnight; even when they were apart, they made it a point to FaceTime so they could wish each other a good night’s sleep.

“What's going on?” A simple question. Louis instinctively knows that the answer won't be so simple.

“I don't—” Harry starts, then pauses, looking away before closing his eyes. Louis bides his time by staring intently at the blue veins barely visible on the pale skin of Harry’s eyelids, since Harry won’t look at him. This is all wrong. Louis has always had a bit of a sixth sense and he has _always_ been able to read Harry. So not knowing what’s going on inside Harry’s head scares him.

“Haz?” His voice sounds small, even to him.

Harry's hands tremble by his sides. A chill rapidly fills the space between them, swirling its dark tentacles around Louis, gripping him like an unwelcome hug that he can't push away. He shivers from the cold anxiety threatening his bones.

When Harry's eyes open again, they dart around the room, still refusing to meet Louis’. But Louis can see them. They're dull. Almost lifeless. “I can't do this anymore. I don't.... I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.” The last part is a whisper followed by a choked out sob.

White noise fills his ears as Louis’ heart takes off at an alarming pace. _What does he mean? Surely Harry doesn't mean them? Because they're a sure thing._ The ink on their skin tells him so.

“What do you mean you can't _do_ this anymore, Harry? What the fuck does that even mean?” His hands yank at his shirt, stretching it away from his body, a hopeless attempt to pull air into his lungs again.

The white noise in Louis’ head grows louder the longer that Harry stares at his feet. So loud that it screams at him, _shrieking_ , overpowering his senses. This can't be real. Cannot be.

“Don't make me say it, Louis. Please don't make me say it,” he pleads desperately. He finally looks up, eyes misty rain clouds.

 _He's sorry_.

“’Fraid you're gonna have to, mate. ’Cuz I'm not picking up what you're throwing down.” His words are hostile daggers and Harry flinches visibly as they're hurled at him. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me. That way there's no room for miscommunication.” Louis hates the words that drip from his lips, laced with venom, sounding so foreign. So unlike himself.

But what comes next? The words that follow? He hates those a thousand times more.

“I'm not in love with you anymore.” A single tear trickles down Harry's cheek. The room is deathly quiet, while Louis’ head is anything but. It screeches loudly like a wounded animal, thrusting Louis headfirst into what he would effectively describe as his worst nightmare. He's torn between wanting to kiss Harry's tear away and wanting to shove him backwards until his back hits the wall, until he takes the words back. He wants to wake up from this terrible dream so that the words are effectively erased, so that Harry never said them.

 _This isn't real._ Except it is _._

 _“_ You don't…” Louis can't say it. Won't say it.

“No.” Tears stream freely down Harry's face and that doesn't seem right. It's not fair. He's ripping Louis heart from his chest so why is he the one crying? He wants to scream, to admonish him for having the nerve to steal Louis’ emotions which he rightfully feels. But more than that, he needs to know.

“Were we real, Haz? Did you ever?” Louis can’t reconcile what he thought they were just three days ago to what Harry's telling him now. Had it been one-sided this whole time?

“Yes.” Another broken sob escapes from Harry. “We were real.”

It doesn’t reassure him. Louis can no longer believe anything he says.

“I'm sorry, Lou. I'm so, so sorry.” And then he flees. The door to the room is flung wide open and the space where Harry was just standing is now empty. The vacancy is suffocating.

Anger fades quickly, making space for the most intense pain Louis has ever known. There's no air. Louis tries to breathe, but can't.

_Harry's sorry. He doesn't love you anymore._

The walls of the room threaten him, inching in closer and closer.

 _He's sorry_.

The walls are on him now, throbbing, squeezing and turning the world black. And Louis lets it happen. Sinks to the ground in slow motion, desperate to escape this hell.

Surely feeling nothing will be better than _this_. This indescribable pain. He curls into a ball on the floor thinking that if he holds himself a little tighter, that it will stop, that he can make it stop.

It doesn’t work.

 _He's sorry_.

It’s not enough.

The floor feels cold against his face. It's wet, but perhaps that's because he's crying. He doesn't get the chance to find out because the world goes dark.

~~~

 

“Louis.”

The voice sounds far away and Louis’ eyes hurt. They won't open. His body hurts too.

“Louis.” That voice is calling his name again as a warm hand presses against his cheek. Still, Louis lays there. In pain. Confused.

Until it hits him. _Harry._ Harry doesn't love him anymore. Louis hears someone sobbing and it takes a few seconds for him to realize that the someone is him.

“Oh, Louis.” It’s that voice again. He knows that voice. _Liam_.

He doesn't open his eyes. Even if he could, he doesn't want to. Doesn’t want to see the pity he can hear in Liam's tone. Instead, he lets Liam pull him into his lap, stroking gentle circles along his back as Louis continues to sob into his neck.

Harry doesn't love him.

Everything hurts.

~~~

Heartbreak is a funny word. Because his heart isn't broken. Not really. It feels more like it's been shredded. Like he's gone ten rounds with a machine gun, his heart left in tattered pieces. Each one of them now a jagged fragment left behind with the soul purpose to puncture the rest of his organs. It burns like acid bubbling inside of him. He clutches manically at his chest through his shirt, wishing he could rip his heart out himself in order to stop the pain.

He's been staying at Liam's for the last two days. It's not like he can go home, after all. They live together. _Lived._ Shared a flat, shared everything, their lives so intrinsically twisted together that Louis fears he’ll never be able untangle himself. They were going to get married one day. They’d talked about it, had even purchased rings.

He hasn't left the guest room, specifically the bed, except to use the bathroom. And considering he hasn't had anything to eat or drink since _that day,_ he hasn't had to go that often _._

The blankets are pulled up over his head, cocooning him in a protective fort. It's warm inside this bubble, but it's starting to smell bad. He should take a shower, but that would require moving, so.

It's only a matter of time before Liam enlists Zayn to help him physically shove Louis under the showerhead. He's heard Liam muttering helplessly under his breath each time he comes to check on him, knows how worried he is. And he wishes he had the strength to care.

But he doesn't. Nothing matters. Nothing except this raw, visceral pain that threatens to drag him under again.

He's crying again, the pillow wet beneath his cheek. And he prays to be released from this hell. Which is exactly what this is. Hell.

Crying is exhausting. His eyes burn and his body is so tired, he thinks he might actually be able to sleep through all of autumn. And to be honest, that seems like an excellent plan.

He’ll just sleep until it doesn't hurt anymore. Until he wakes up no longer in love with the cheeky boy with the curls. Until he can no longer feel the ghost of his touch. Until he can no longer see how bright Harry’s eyes shine as Louis pushes inside of him.

Until he forgets.

Louis prays for sleep as his body shakes against the mattress, holding in his sobs, lest Liam hear him.

His legs feel like they've been weighed down, arms feel like heavy bricks, eyes feel like they've been scrubbed with sandpaper and don't even get him started on his heart.

He couldn't move if he wanted to.

Not that he wants to.

Louis lets himself cry until the blackness beckons him again. Once he’s numb enough, he slips into a fitful sleep. Perhaps when he wakes up, he will have forgotten.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly sorry about chapter one and possibly even more sorry about chapter two. Love me anyway?
> 
> I want to again extend a huge thank you to Nic for being an incredibly patient beta! You made this fic infintely better and I will be forever grateful! And to Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I probably wouldn't be posting at all if it wasn't for you :D

Harry’s back is killing him. Sharp flares of pain shoot up his neck as well, but he refuses to take anything to relieve it. That would be too easy.

_ I deserve this. _

The guest room mattress is too soft for somebody with a back like him, but he doesn't really have a choice. It's not like he can sleep in  _ there.  _ In  _ their  _ bed. 

He's barely slept in three days. The dark rings under his eyes serve as evidence. 

Thank god for Liam or things would be even worse. He'd taken care of their group obligations, begging time off for multiple cases of the flu. Their team believed the lie since it was Liam selling it. Of course, it helps that Harry and Louis had a history of swapping germs. No one from their team wants to catch the flu, so.  

But even more important than Liam covering for them was the fact that Harry knew Louis was being taken care of. 

It was a small piece of solace given the fact that he was the one responsible for Louis needing someone to care for him in the first place. Still, it helped, even if it wasn't enough. 

When he fled the room that fateful day, he rounded a corner, and ran straight into Liam. As in  _ straight into him _ . Slammed into his chest and bounced backwards into the wall. Liam took one look at his red-rimmed eyes and immediately pulled him into a tight embrace. 

And god, how Harry wanted to sink into him, into his warm familiarity, but he couldn't. He didn't deserve his comfort. 

“Li. Please? Louis.” The words were incoherent, but Liam immediately stood at full attention, eyes scanning Harry's, trying to work out what he was saying. 

“Where is he?” Liam’s eyes frantically searched the space around them, no longer concerned with Harry’s tear-stained cheeks.  _ Good.  _ “Christ Harry, where is he? Is he hurt?”

A choked sob escaped his throat as he forced himself to answer. A simple word. “Yes.”

Louis  _ was  _ hurt. And it was all Harry's fault. 

“Please Li.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Liam was gone. Running blindly after Louis. 

More than anything, Harry wanted to follow him. To run back to Louis. To beg his forgiveness. To tell him that he didn't mean it—hadn't meant a single word. 

That couldn't happen though. Simon had made that crystal clear. 

Somehow he managed to find himself a driver and made it back to their flat without having to face Niall or Zayn. It's still a bit of a blur to him. Upon arriving there, he turned off his phone, postponing the inevitable. 

But it's not like he could hide forever. They’re a group for Christ's sake. Or at least they were.  _ What if I destroyed that too? _

The thought was an even harder punch to the gut. Because what if, in his efforts to  _ save _ , he did the complete opposite and actually destroyed? Louis? The band? Everything?

Because one thing was clear. He absolutely destroyed himself. And he had only himself to blame. 

_ Well _ . And Simon. 

But Simon didn’t say those hateful words to Louis. Harry delivered the fatal blow. Just because he didn't mean them, doesn't take away the fact that he  _ said  _ them. Because he did. He couldn't change that fact and knowing this, knowing how badly his words had likely cut, left him with a gaping hole right in the center of his chest. One that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stitch back together. 

He tried. As it turns out, though, liquor for breakfast doesn't make him feel better. Rather, it makes him feel worse and he finds himself heaving over their bathroom toilet, the whiskey burning him a second time as it comes back up. 

Of course, that's where Zayn finds him. 

“Good.” His voice sneers from behind Harry as he continues to retch. Harry’s fingers clench tighter around the cold porcelain bowl, a poor attempt to hold himself together when he's clearly falling apart. 

It's quiet for a minute, save for the horrible noises his throat makes as his body works the offending alcohol out of its system. But then Zayn speaks again. 

“Tell me you didn't say it.” Harry has never heard Zayn sound so angry before. It's slightly terrifying, but strangely enough, it's also a relief. 

He's been waiting for this. The boys have every reason to be upset with him. They love one another like brothers so when one of them gets hurt, they make a point of standing by one another. And the way in which Harry hurt Louis? It’s unforgivable so he’s been waiting for a confrontation, fully expecting it. He’s not really surprised that it’s Zayn who’s come to Louis’ defense. 

“I can't.” He answered him in between rounds of being sick. 

“You realize how completely  _ fucked _ that is, don't you Harry?” His voice is louder, seemingly closer than it was before. Harry wishes that he could flush himself down this disgusting toilet along with the liquid poison, that he could make himself disappear. 

But also, he wants this pain.  _ It's what I deserve.  _

“Yes,” is all he says. It's all he can say. It  _ is  _ fucked. Zayn isn't wrong. 

“Yeah, well, I think you're full of shit. That's what  _ I  _ think.” He's standing directly above Harry now and he can hear the fabric of his pants moving as he crouches down beside him, speaking the next words quietly into his ear. “I don't know why you said it. But you're a shitty liar, mate.” 

Harry chokes back a sob before retching again. Zayn flushes the toilet without saying another word and then pulls Harry up with a firm hand on the back of his neck. Suddenly they're face to face and Harry can't handle the look of disgust and betrayal aimed his way. He focuses on his feet instead while Zayn continues to stare at him intently, trying to work out the mess standing before him. 

It's quiet for a minute before Zayn’s heavy sigh echoes off the walls. Reaching behind Harry, he turns the knobs in the shower. “You smell. Take a shower. And then you and me are going to have a talk. And you  _ will  _ tell me what the fuck is going on. Do you understand?”

Harry nods his head stupidly and the mere motion sends shooting pains across his forehead. The bathroom is beginning to fill with steam, softening the air around them and Harry thinks a shower sounds like a good idea after all. 

“Good. I'll be in the kitchen.” And then he's gone. Harry is left alone again in their bathroom, the sound of the water hitting the shower wall his only company. He reminds himself that he deserves the painful silence—deserves to be alone—as he sheds his clothes in a haphazard pile and climbs under the hot spray, wishing that the soap could scrub more than just his filth away. 

~~~

 

The smell of coffee hits him as he opens the bathroom door. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he heads for their bedroom to grab some clothes. It's the first time he's set foot in their room since  _ that day _ and it hits him harder than he anticipated. 

Louis’ clothes are scattered all over the room and his empty, dirty teacup mocks him from the nightstand. It's sitting beside a photo of the two of them. In it, they're both smiling, though not at the camera. Their smiles are aimed at one another instead. A choked sob escapes his lips once more and he wonders offhandedly if there's a limit to how many tears one can cry. Surely he's reached his over the last few days. 

The urge to dive into their bed, to smother his face into his pillow just so he can  _ smell _ him again is overwhelming. 

He doesn't let himself. 

Zayn is waiting.

After throwing on a pair of trackies and a worn t-shirt he makes his way into the kitchen. His feet move like there are bricks attached. Slowly. Painfully. Dreading the conversation that awaits him. 

He knows that he has to follow through with the plan. Has to make Zayn believe. Otherwise, Harry shivers, a cold breeze licking at his spine, Simon will do unthinkable things.  _ Horrible  _ things. To Louis. 

He laid it all out for Harry. Every despicable detail. And after doing so, offered him an out. 

The fact that he took it makes him hate himself. But the alternative? Allowing those things to be done to the man he loves? He would've hated himself a thousand times more. And that's saying quite a lot, because Harry truly despises himself right now. He would like to seep into the floorboards beneath his feet and disappear, in fact. God, how he'd love to be a ghost so he could do exactly that. 

Instead, he allows his feet to carry him forward until he's turning the corner into their kitchen and locking eyes with an extremely put out Zayn Malik. His penetrating stare is unrelenting, his jaw tense, as Harry shuffles uncomfortably, looking down towards his feet once more. 

“I made coffee.” Zayn states the obvious. Harry peeks up at him, watching as Zayn rolls his eyes. “And you should have some.” 

He’s speaking to Harry like he's a child and Harry actually finds himself appreciating it. Simple instructions are the only thing he's capable of processing right now. Without responding, he walks over to the pot and pours himself a mug. 

Black. 

He barely likes coffee, having adopted Louis’ preference for tea. And he sure as hell doesn't like black coffee, but that doesn't matter.  _ I don't deserve sugar. _

Taking a sip, he winces as it scalds his throat going down, but Harry tells himself that he deserves that too. With his hands clenched tight around the mug, trying to harness its warmth, he turns to face Zayn, knowing that he can't put this off any longer. 

Inhaling deeply, he raises his eyes to meet Zayn’s and then tells a lie almost as bad as the first one, the one that destroyed everything. “This is for the best. It's better for the band that we’re not together.”

“Bullshit. That's complete shit, Harry. And you know it.” Zayn doesn't even hesitate before jumping on his words. His eyes appear brighter somehow and he's vibrating in his seat with anger. 

“It's true.” His voice sounds so small it's no wonder Zayn doesn't believe him. 

“It's not true.  _ You  _ know it's not true. And  _ I  _ know it's not true.”

Harry stands frozen in place, not speaking, too anxious to take a seat. His mug trembles in his hands as he wills himself to remain strong. To sell the story. So that Louis can be safe.  _ It's for the best.  _

Zayn’s eyes drill into him as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle and Harry tries his hardest to hold his stare, at the same time thinking of how to convince him that this is for the best. Several moments pass by with tension hanging heavy in the air, strangling him, robbing him of the words he knows he needs to say.

But he takes too long and the opportunity passes him by. Zayn ends up being the first one to speak. “Holy fuck, Harry. Did Simon put you up to this?  _ What the fuck did he threaten you with _ ?”

A huge whoosh of air sweeps through Harry, as his mug slips from his hands, crashing into pieces at his feet. Hot coffee ricochets off the floor, splashing up his legs, but Harry barely feels it. The implication of Zayn’s words cut straight through him.

He's struggling to breath. 

Zayn’s chair scrapes across the floor and within seconds, there's a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close. 

“Shhh. It's okay. Holy fuck Harry. What the hell did that fucker say to you?”

Harry can't answer him, though, not with heavy sobs continuing to pummel him. He digs his fingers into Zayn's shoulders to ground himself, in order to feel something besides this all-encompassing pain. 

Because Harry truly fucked up this time, even worse than he thought. Somehow, Zayn managed to see through all of his lies, and that wasn't supposed to happen. He needed to sell those lies in order to protect Louis, but he failed. And though he's not sure what this means, he understands enough. 

Louis isn't safe anymore. Because if Zayn has figured it out without Harry even saying a word, then Louis will be able to work it out as well. And Harry has no one to blame for that but himself. Louis’ going to learn about Simon’s intentions towards him and that's all Harry’s fault. In an attempt to shield him from the hateful, greedy harm Simon claimed was a necessary part of his master plan, he hurt him immeasurably and now it seems as though his efforts might have been in vain. 

 

~~~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Again. Chp 3 will be up tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never going to be able to thank  Nic enough, but Imma try! Thank you for all of your help - you made this fic so much better! I will be forever grateful that you agreed to this! Also a huge thank you to  Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I love you both a lot <3
> 
> To those who have read this far, thank you so much!!! And to those who commented, thank you even more <3

Much to Louis’ surprise, it's Niall who ends up shoving him in the shower. And he does it without Liam's help. Which? Is even more surprising to be honest. But Louis is too tired to care about the fact that Niall, who can hardly do ten push-ups, has just manhandled him so effortlessly. Apparently, there's something to this whole eating and drinking business because the lack of sustenance has left him weak. 

“Lose the stench. Or I'll climb in there with you and scrub it off myself.” Harsh words, considering, but true nonetheless. He does stink. The fact that he can smell himself serves as confirmation. 

The water stings against his back at first, biting cold until the pipes warm up and it turns comfortably hot. Or it would be. If he wasn't still fully dressed. And if the space where his heart used to beat didn't feel split wide open. The water is cruel reminder that he is still very much alive. 

“Liam's ordering,” Niall informs him firmly through the shower curtain. Apparently he doesn't trust Louis to shower on his own. But considering Louis has yet to touch the soap? Well, Niall might have legit cause for concern. “Oh, and Zayn's on his way over. Tonight you eat.” His voice is resolute. “Or tomorrow I'm ringing your mum.”

“Niall…” Louis’ voice is scratchy from lack of use and so deep that he hardly recognizes it. He doesn’t have a good response for this threat. His mum is a fierce protector of all her children. In no way will she tolerate this shell of a human he's become over the last few days. He sighs out loud, resigned. 

“Tonight you eat.” The words are gentler this time, but equally determined. The door clicking shut behind Niall offers him a tiny respite, and he breathes deeply, allowing the wet air of his foggy shower to fill his lungs and stretch them. Alone is good. Alone is better. 

How does the absence of a vital organ hurt so much? Surely a blank space shouldn't be capable of experiencing pain? 

Actually, he'd read about this before. 

_ Phantom pain _ . 

Sometimes, when people lose limbs, they experience pain where the limb once was. Perhaps that's what this is. 

Phantom pain for the heart that used to beat, sure and steady in his chest. 

It's a horrible feeling, waking up each day only to realize that this isn't an actual nightmare. Harry doesn't love him anymore. It's been days and Louis hasn’t heard a single word from him, yet he still can't reconcile his brain with his heart.  _ He loves me, _ the ghost of his heart shouts at him.  _ No. Not anymore,  _ his brain answers. A firm denial based upon fact.  _ He said so _ . 

For a few long moments he simply stands there under the spray allowing it to warm his skin, his clothes stuck to him like an uncomfortable blanket that’s weighing him down. Louis allows his mind to wander to a familiar feeling from not long ago. 

They'd taken scuba diving lessons a few months back, him and Harry. During one of the tests they had to swim to the bottom of the pool fully clothed. He remembers it now, how heavy it had felt to swim in all those layers. How uncomfortable. It feels worse now, heavier, though he's not even submerged this time. He might as well be. 

It feels like he's drowning. 

That day, his biggest challenge had been to breathe properly through his laughter as Harry pulled silly faces at him from behind his mask. The current challenge is considerably harder. 

Finally, he manages to peel his wet clothes from his body. They slap flat and heavy as they land on the tiled floor of the shower. He works the shampoo into his hair even though it's not the right kind. It doesn’t smell like the apple one they use at home. Still, it gets the job done, washes the grease away, so it will have to do. Same goes for the soap which smells of citrus instead of vanilla, but eliminates his stale, sad stench.

When he finishes, he towels off and lowers the toilet lid, taking a seat. The shower has completely drained him and he’d quite like to have a nap, but he knows that's not an option. They’re waiting for him and something tells him that Niall was serious when he threatened to call his mum. And no matter how badly he's hurting right now, he can't allow that to happen. 

As he sits there, he lets his eyes flicker around Liam's bathroom, noting that Niall has left him a stack of clean clothes to change into. Thank god for good friends and small favors. 

Louis really does have the best friends. They've all rallied around him over these last few days, taking turns checking on him, encouraging him to eat something or have a few sips of water. He didn't comply, but it wasn't for lack of them trying. And even though he found their nagging unbearable, he knows that it was all done out of love. 

For a moment he almost smiles, thinking about how lucky he is to have such amazing friends, but then reality sets back in. His friends still love him, but Harry doesn’t. Not anymore.  _ I'm not in love with you anymore. _ Somehow Harry fell out of love, but sadly, Louis hasn’t figured out how to do the same.

His lips turn down as he worries about how things might change for them now. Will they take sides? Does there even have to be sides or will Harry and him be able to be friends without disturbing the balance of the band?

It's a heavy thought. Because before they'd fallen into bed and into love, the two of them were best friends. Can they go back to that? Go back to being just friends? Right now, to Louis at least, it seems like an impossible task. But this is Harry.  _ Harry.  _ How could they  _ not _ be friends? The empty space in his chest aches all over again as he contemplates a world where they don’t speak everyday. 

But he can't allow himself to be selfish, regardless of how much he wants to be. This isn't just about him. Or him and Harry. There are three other people to consider. 

It's truly a messy situation and his head begins to throb again as he tries to figure out ways that it could possibly work. As he sits there mulling it over, there's a sharp rap on the bathroom door. 

“Lou? Pizza's here.” It's Niall again. Louis wonders if he drew the short straw and got designated the ‘Louis handler’ for the night. He hasn't seen Zayn since the previous day and it's been hours since he last saw Liam. But now they're all here? Together. Waiting on him to get dressed and probably worrying themselves about whether he’ll eat this time. 

Louis takes a deep breath in. He hopes that he's not becoming a burden on them. Maybe that's what tonight’s all about? Or perhaps they want to discuss the logistics of moving forward as a band, in the wake of his and Harry's split. Either way, he's dreading this conversation. 

And he's also worried that it's more than just his heart that's broken because his stomach didn't so much as growl at the mention of pizza. In fact, the very thought of it makes him feel queasy. But he doesn't have a choice. Niall made that very clear. 

“Be there in a sec,” he finally answers. It's the longest sentence he's spoken in days. 

~~~

 

It's not that he suddenly feels ready to face them or, god forbid, discuss the specifics of what went down between him and Harry. But he owes the boys some kind of explanation. And he needs to eat. He promised. 

Louis doesn't want their pity, though, and he doesn't want them to pick sides. That much he intends to make very clear. They will find a way through this. They will. The two of them and five of them respectively. Louis is determined to make it so, driven by the fear that he could be the one responsible for causing them to fail. He will not concede to be that person. 

With newfound determination, he pushes open the bathroom door, outfitted in the trackies and sweater that Niall set out for him, and heads in their direction. The heart that he thought dead pounds loudly in his chest, but he will not be deterred. His mind is made up. He can fix this and they will all be fine. 

Well maybe not fine, but he can pretend. Once upon a time Louis had fancied himself becoming an actor so he's quite sure he can fake his way through this mess. If it means that the band gets to carry on, he can fake being satisfied with just friendship. It might kill him to do so, given the fact that Harry’s the love of his life, but he’ll do it anyway.

He walks into the living room like he's walking on stage. Determined and confident, with his back straight, shoulders set, and hands rubbing together like he's psyching himself up for his best performance yet. And who knows, maybe he is. 

As soon as he sets foot in the room, the conversation comes to a complete halt, as does Louis, freezing midstep. He stands in the doorway with his mouth gaped open in disbelief. His shoulders slump forward and his hands drop to his sides as he stares stupidly in front of him, blinking rapidly, confused. 

Because sitting right in front of him? Looking every bit destroyed as Louis himself feels? Is none other than Harry. 

It doesn't make sense, him being here. Not after  _ that day.  _ And while Louis told Liam through his tears that Harry didn't love him anymore, none of them knew the specifics. At least not from him. 

They knew enough, though. 

They knew that Harry was the catalyst for his pain. And they knew that Louis had hardly left Liam's guest room over the course of the last few days because of it. So how the hell could they not  _ know  _ this? And why the fuck is he here?

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It seems that nobody wants to be first to speak. Or perhaps they’re waiting for him, who knows. Louis still hasn’t moved and his eyes remain glued to Harry—whose eyes are scanning over everything in the room,  _ except for _ Louis.

Like a caged animal, he looks ready to flee, eyes wild and legs twitchy. He’s probably planning his escape and Louis can’t even blame him. It must be awkward as hell to have to face your ex-lover, the one that you rejected, in front of your mutual friends...and colleagues.

Fuck. That’s probably what this is. Of course it is. They’re paranoid that Louis’ going to leave the band. Or worse, break up the band.

That thought propels him forward, allows him to place one foot in front of the other, moving further into the room. He needs to dispel this fear immediately as he has no plans to do either of these things. 

Looking around, he takes in the faces of the other boys. Liam’s tentative smile aimed at him, Niall’s eyes flitting anxiously all over the room, and Zayn? Looking concerned? For Harry? Surely, that can’t be right, though.

Except that it is. Zayn’s watching him like a hawk with furrowed brows. He hasn’t looked away from him once, not even now, with Louis staring directly at him. What the hell is going on?

Maybe Harry’s the one leaving the band. 

Louis reaches for a slice of pizza, hoping to ease the tension by giving them what they asked for. He takes a big bite in an effort to appease Niall and the others, but immediately drops it back down to an empty plate beside the box. Because while this is pizza, his favorite food, it tastes exactly like the cardboard box it arrived in. And it’s from his favorite takeaway place, so clearly it’s not the pizza.

Louis’ belly protests and he can’t force himself to take another bite. Apparently he’s lost his sense of taste along with his appetite, which is a complete bitch. 

Another look around the room finds everyone but Harry staring at him, waiting for him to do something.

Anything.

Well, if there’s one thing that Louis can be counted on for in awkward situations, it’s his ability to diffuse tension with humor. And despite the fact that his stomach feels twisted inside out, he knows what he needs to do.

“Everyone can relax. I’m not planning to break up the band.” He’s strung two sentences together now which is damn near a miracle. They all should be laughing, but nobody is. Instead, a sob breaks free from Harry’s throat and Louis’ head whips towards him to inspect him more closely.

Now that he’s paying closer attention, he can see that Harry’s eyes are red-rimmed and his hands are twisting nervously in his lap. Which is curious, considering.

_ Shit. _ Maybe Harry  _ is _ leaving the band? He always maintained that would never happen, but then again, he promised Louis forever. Things change, Louis knows this now. And just like that he’s pissed. It’s crazy how quickly his emotions are vacillating, but that’s on Harry, not him. It's his fault, after all. He did this. 

Louis embraces his mind's quick turn of emotions. It feels good to be angry. Better anger rather than the overpowering grief he's been feeling for the last few days. 

Who the hell does Harry think he is? It’s one thing for him to decide that he doesn’t love Louis anymore, but to leave all  _ four _ of them behind? Did he never mean a single word he said?

Louis’ hands ball up into fists by his side as he stares at Harry incredulously. “Are you leaving the band, Harry? Is that why you’re here?” His tone is colored with anger and disbelief as his eyes drill holes straight through him. Louis has barely eaten in days and his body feels weak, but he reckons he could take Harry on if they were to fight right now. And man, does he want to punch him.

Harry’s eyes go wide and he's staring at Louis with so much sadness that for a moment, he almost forgets that he's angry. 

_ Almost _ . But not quite.

Louis hates, absolutely  _ hates _ the fact that he looks like a scared deer in headlights right now. If he’s come here to tell them he’s leaving then he needs to stop dicking around and say it. He has no right to look so sad and scared right now. Not when he has the potential to break three more hearts. 

He's so caught up with his thoughts about how shitty this is that he almost misses Harry's whispered response. “I'm not. I would never.” He does hear him, though, and he can't help the words that fly from his mouth without permission. 

“Yeah, well, I believed a few other important things you promised and look how well that turned out.”

“Louis...” Liam's voice is soft and pleading. 

Harry looks as if he's been slapped. His eyes fill up and god dammit, now Louis feels guilty. This emotional roller coaster is officially the worst ride he's ever been on and he would very much like to get the fuck off. 

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be in the cards. “I'm sorry, Lou. I'm so so sorry,” Harry chokes out as tears spill down his cheeks in a steady stream. “I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I didn't. I didn't.” 

His words are a jumbled incoherent mess and his body shakes violently as tears continue to drip down his face, but he's not even attempting to wipe them away. Instead he continues to chant about how sorry he is as his nose turns bright red and snot begins to mix in with his tears. 

Louis’ empty heart clenches because this boy? The man that Louis still loves? Despite how much he hurt him? He looks completely broken. Louis wonders what he's even apologizing for. Is it for changing his mind? Or breaking his heart? Either way, he feels conflicted and completely at a loss for what to do.

Confused, he drags his eyes up from Harry, looking towards the others for guidance and is surprised to find that all of them have suspiciously moist eyes. They're not crying, but they all look upset and none of them are looking back at Louis. 

Instead, they're focused on Harry. Liam looks about five seconds away from charging Harry with one of his famous bear hugs and Louis knows he shouldn't feel this way, but it hurts him. Because even though he hears Harry apologizing, it doesn't change what he said. He can't just take the words back. 

Louis isn't over it yet and he's not sure if he ever will be either. Hell, he's only just taken his first bite of food since  _ that day _ so excuse him for being selfish, but shouldn't Liam be more concerned for Louis’ well-being right now? 

It's hateful, these thoughts that accost him and he despises himself for not being a better person. Harry's crying in front of him and he's worried about allegiances. 

_ “‘ _ I'm  not in love with you anymore.’ You said that, Harry. That’s what  _ you _ said.” Louis’ words are like angry slingshots. His pulse races from the fury of repeating the most hateful words he’s ever heard, but at the same time his palms are sweating. He’s nervous. Which makes no sense, but then again, nothing has made sense for days now. 

The fact that Louis' still in love with him complicates things even further. Because a part of him feels just like Liam; he longs to wrap Harry in his arms. Wants to run his hands along his back in soothing circles as he whispers into his neck that everything is fine. That they're going to be fine. 

But he can't. 

Because nothing is fine. 

Nothing.

“Louis.” Zayn's voice rescues him from his own tortured thoughts. 

Louis’ eyes shift towards Zayn and he braces himself for what Zayn might say.

“Simon blackmailed Harry. He's telling you the truth. He didn't mean it.”

Louis was not prepared for this explanation. His brain is screaming a million things all at once, but Louis focuses on one thing, and one thing only. 

_ It wasn’t true? It...Harry didn’t mean it. He — He still loves me?  _

It feels like he can finally breathe again, but it's choppy at best.  His mouth opens and he gasps, followed by quickly drawing in a pained breath that gets caught in his throat.  _ Why did Harry say it? Why? _ A mixture of confusion and relief make him feel dizzy, so much so that he thinks he might pass out. 

_ Simon blackmailed Harry.  _

_ It wasn't real. _

Louis drops to a seated position, the chair he lands in rocks violently. He stares at his friends, eyes finally settling on Harry, who is staring at him with wide, watery eyes.

He has so many questions, but it looks as if Louis might have to wait for answers because Harry's doing even worse than he is. 

Tears are still trickling down his face and his, eyes bore straight into Louis, silently imploring, begging him really. 

Louis has doubts, so many doubts, and nothing makes sense, but right now Louis can’t help himself. He's weak for this boy and always has been. Harry's hurt him more than anyone ever has before and Louis is still confused, in desperate need of some answers, but he can't deny him. Not when he's like this, a lost soul.

Without giving it another thought, he pushes himself out of the chair, and moves forward until he's standing straight in front of Harry looking down. 

“Come here, Haz,” Louis tells him softly and just like that, Harry's out of his seat and back in his arms. 

~~~

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at the risk of sounding repetitive, I'm sorry. Again.  
> Chp 4 will be up tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm never going to be able to thank  Nic for all of your help..you made this fic so much better and I will be forever grateful! Also a huge thank you to  Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I love you both a lot <3
> 
> To those who have read this far, thank you so much!!! And to those who commented or left kudos, thank you even more <3

“So...you thought...? I don't know, Haz. What the hell  _ were _ you thinking?” Louis asks him, not for the first time. Harry tugs at his own hair in frustration. 

They’ve been at this for hours now. Zayn dragged Harry to Liam’s soon after he caught the gist of what was going on, letting him know that anything involving one of them and Simon involves  _ all  _ of them. “This isn’t just about you, Harry. It’s not even just about you and Louis.” Of course he was right, Harry realized a few days too late. All of the boys were owed explanations.

And all four of them were enraged as Harry recalled all the countless threats that Simon had thrown at him that fateful day. Over and over again. Horrible, horrible threats. Detailed accounts of the things he planned to do to Louis and in essence, the whole band. Things that Harry could never have imagined, not in his darkest nightmare. 

After Harry’s private meeting with Simon, he pulled back from everyone, trapped in a never-ending hell as his mind replayed all of the scenarios laid out for him. He hyperfocused on what Simon had described as the one thing Harry could do to keep Louis safe, to protect him. Harry could stop it all from happening. All he had to do was one thing. One teeny tiny little thing.

He had to break both of their hearts. 

The thought of Simon succeeding with his plans to destroy Louis...just to get his way...just to make money.  _ God.  _ Harry's shaking again just thinking about it. So of course Harry did it! Simon had left him no choice! He'd done what he needed to in order to protect Louis! 

Pushing Louis away was without question the hardest thing he’s ever done. In hindsight, he’s not even sure how he managed to say those awful words. They weren't real. They weren't. He didn’t  _ actually _ stop loving Louis. The idea in and of itself is preposterous.

So the fact that Louis looks angry at him right now? When he knows that Harry was forced to say it? It doesn't make sense. If only he could get Louis to just  _ listen  _ to him, he would understand.

Throwing his hands up, he tries once more to explain himself. “I needed to protect you.”

“You needed to protect me,” Louis echoes his words back to him flatly. He doesn't look impressed. “By telling me you didn't love me anymore.”

Harry's eyes fill up for the umteenth time. “Lou, please.” His voice is much softer this time. Smaller. They're going in circles. 

“Louis.” Niall’s voice is soft as well. A marked improvement from a few hours back when he'd gone on a full tirade, shouting expletives loud enough for Liam's neighbors to hear. “Fucking cunt” reverberated off the walls at least fifty times. Hell, half of England probably heard him go off. Niall’s not exactly quiet. Not even on a good day.

All of the boys were furious when they heard the specific detailed threats that Simon used on Harry. And they were even more incited about the fact that he cornered Harry into the meeting privately, without permitting him an opportunity to let them know. But it’s been hours now. The exhaustion is written all over their faces, most notably Liam’s as he walks back into the room after stepping out for a few minutes.

“We’re expected back for rehearsals tomorrow, lads,” Liam informs them solemnly. “I'm sorry. I couldn't buy us anymore time. But you know what they say. The show must go.” Liam looks truly remorseful as he suggests they wrap things up for the night.

“We should get some sleep.” Zayn tacks on. They're all completely exhausted. A quick glance towards the clock hanging in the far corner tells Harry that it's just past two a.m. They're going to sound like shit tomorrow, but at least they can blame it on the “flu.” 

“Should we meet again after rehearsals to come up with a plan? Or try to anyway?” Liam asks the group. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Niall answers, already shrugging his coat on. “We’ll figure this out somehow.” Zayn's reaching for his coat as well and Harry's heart starts to pick up speed as he realizes that he doesn't know what to do. 

Will they leave together? Go back home? Nothing's been resolved yet, but Louis knows that Harry didn't mean it. He knows he had no choice. So surely…

“You should go with them Haz.” 

His head whips towards Louis immediately, eyes wide and pleading. “But.”

“I'm gonna stay here.” Louis tells Harry and then turns towards Liam to make sure. “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah.” Liam sounds sad. “Yeah it's fine. I'll just…” He trails off, wandering out of the living room to offer them some privacy. 

“We’ll wait out front for you, Harry,” Niall says quietly before him and Zayn head out as well. 

“Lou?” Harry chokes out, his voice already broken. 

“Haz. I need some space to think.”

“I didn't mean it, Lou. I thought...I  _ told  _ you.”

“I know.” Louis reassures him quietly. “You didn't think you had a choice.”

“I didn't! I didn't have a choice!” Harry's voice is manic. He's desperate to make Louis understand and it feels like he's running out of time.

“You did, though.” Louis’ calm quiet in contrast to the turmoil Harry is experiencing is unnerving.

“Lou, please.” Tears are falling freely now. “I couldn't let Simon do those things to you. Please. You have to understand. I couldn't stand to watch it happen.”

“But that's the problem, Harry.  _ You _ made that choice for us. You never gave me a say. You made the choice  _ for  _ us all on your own when you pushed me away.”

It feels like Harry's been drop kicked in the stomach. This shouldn’t be happening. This isn't how he wants this night to end. Louis was supposed to understand. 

“I love you, Louis. Please. You have to,” Harry hiccups through his tears. “You have to believe me. Please. I love you. I love you so much.”

Louis’ eyes look suspiciously wet, but he remains stoic, unmoving from his spot.

“I know you do Haz.” His words are quiet and gentle like a breeze, but fleeting, leaving Harry struggling to breathe in the stifling air. That’s all he says, rendering Harry an absolute mess. 

“Do you… Do you still love me back?” He sounds pathetic, desperate, but he doesn't care. Louis wants Harry to go back to their flat, without him. And Harry doesn't know how he's supposed to do it. He doesn't want to leave him again. 

Harry's body is tight with the need to be held, craving the comfort of Louis’ arms. He longs for the way Louis curls around him from behind. With a warm arm slung across his waist, Louis’ hand resting softly against his belly. Harry wants to fall asleep tonight with their breaths synced. 

It's looking more and more like that won't be happening, though. Louis’ eyes are moist, but he's not crying. Which is fine, he supposes. Because Harry is crying enough for the both of them. 

“I do,” Louis finally answers, but he pauses and Harry knows that he won't like whatever comes next. “Of course I do, Haz.”

Harry hiccups again, staring at Louis hopefully through the blur of his tears. 

“Then please come home.” Harry whispers. 

“I need some time, though.” Louis finally says, and a wretched sob tears itself from Harry's mouth. 

“Please. I'll kip in the guest room. I'll give you space. Please, Lou. Please.” If they can’t share a bed then Harry would at least like Louis to be sleeping under the same roof as him, where he knows that Louis is safe. And where they would be breathing the same air. He's babbling nonsense, making a complete fool of himself, but he can't be arsed to care. Not now when he stands so close to losing everything. 

“Haz.” Just that one word sounds so overwrought with pain, like it's killing Louis to say it. And Harry knows. He knows he's going home alone tonight. 

His hands reach up to swipe at his tears, but just as quickly as they're wiped away, new ones fall to take their place. “Can I hug you goodbye at least?” Harry asks. 

They haven't touched yet, not really. Not since he launched himself in Louis’ arms hours ago and got a short-lived hug, before Louis pushed him away. 

Without saying a word, Louis steps forward and wraps Harry in his arms, cradling his head against his neck, even though Harry's taller. He feels so small right now. So hopeless. 

Harry lets himself sob against Louis’ shoulder as Louis cards his fingers through his hair. It feels amazing to be held by him, to be touched, but again it doesn't last for nearly long enough. “The boys are waiting for you.” Louis’ voice is gentle. “It's just a pause Haz. It's just a pause. We just need to take some time to figure this mess out. To figure us out.”

The words are meant to be comforting, but they only make him cry harder.  _ It's just a pause.  _

Then why does it feel like something more?

 

~~~

 

Watching Harry walk out the door breaks Louis’ heart all over again. Because it's really only been haphazardly stitched back together. Knowing that Harry  _ does  _ still love him has served as the thread, but things between them are far from okay. 

He took Louis’ choice away. And that knowledge is incredibly painful. Of course, hearing the depths that Simon is willing to go through is a mind fuck all of its own. One that he'll likely need even more time to come to terms with.

But Harry? He’d stolen Louis’ voice, his own free will. It was a somewhat rational decision, Louis can admit. But that doesn't mean that it was the right one. No matter what, he should've had a vote. 

They were partners, the two of them. Partners in every way that two people can be. So Harry should’ve come to him first. Told him of Simon's threats. They should have discussed it then made a decision together. 

It's not bound to get easier from here, that's the thing. Simon has shown his true colors. He's an actual psychopath, so if they don't concede to his unreasonable demands, he's going to make their lives a living hell. 

And what happens the next time he corners Harry? Will he make the same mistake? Because Louis doesn't want a savior; he wants a partner. Someone who stands beside him that's willing to face this bullshit  _ with  _ him, allowing him autotomy to decide. 

Because given the choice? Louis would choose to stay. He'd choose to fight. He'd choose Harry every single time. 

At this moment he’s not sure if Harry would choose  _ him _ .

The sound of the door closing is loud as the others head out for the night. It echoes in the empty space that's left behind. Louis assumes that Liam has fucked off to bed so he's surprised when he walks back into the living room with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses in hand. 

“Figured this might help you sleep tonight,” Liam says. 

“Bit out of character for you.” Louis answers. The irony of it being Liam offering an alcohol balm mere hours before they’re scheduled to show up for rehearsals is not lost on him. 

“Yeah, well. This situation is completely fucked up,so.”

“Thanks, Li.” Louis tosses back the amber liquid. It burns going down, but Louis doesn't care, just sets about pouring them a second round. The jumbled mess of feelings accosting him right now is overwhelming. 

Relief. Fear. Anger. Confusion. Love. It's too much for him to process at this late hour. And he really does want to catch a few hours of sleep. If he can, that is. He tosses back the second shot almost immediately. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Liam asks him quietly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Louis doesn’t want to. What he really wants to do is sleep. “Not really,” he tells Liam whilst staring at the empty shot glasses. “It’s just. Harry should have come to me. We could have figured this out together, you know?” He doesn’t wait for Liam to respond. “He never even gave me a choice. He left me, Li.”

It’s always going to come back to that. Harry left him.

“I know.” Liam sounds so sad. “He still loves you, though. Looked pretty broken up when he left tonight.”

“Yeah.” Louis agrees. He still loves Harry too, but his heart hurts. And he’s so tired that his bones actually hurt. Louis doesn’t feel like talking anymore and Liam must sense it because he sighs heavily beside him. 

“You can kip with me tonight, mate,” Liam offers a few seconds later. “The guest room needs to be fumigated,” he tacks on with a small smile. He's attempting to make light of things and Louis loves him for it. He's also not entirely wrong. Louis has been a complete mess whilst holed up in that room these last few days. It probably could do with an open window for the night. 

He nods his head in agreement and they make their way to Liam's room shortly thereafter. 

Louis tries to be strong, he really does. But there's only so long that he can hold back his tears once realizing there's a plan set to be executed that could quite literally destroy him. And he's been holding it together all night, ever since pulling Harry into his arms the first time. So he needs to let some of his pent up feelings go. 

Turned on his side, facing away from Liam, he attempts to be quiet, determined not to let him hear. He must fail at it though, because a few seconds later, Liam's rolling over behind him and pulling him close to his chest like a little spoon. 

It's funny because he's always the big spoon with Harry. But he sinks into it anyway, relishing this comfort, needing to feel as if he's not alone. Even if it's not the arms he's used to, it makes him feel safe. 

“It's okay, Louis. We’ll figure this out, I swear. We're not gonna allow Simon to get away with this.”

He can't speak so he just nods. Letting the effects of the amber liquid and the warmth of Liam's arms gently guide him to sleep. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow they'll start developing a plan. 

~~~

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is now a good time to reassure you that this will have a happy ending?  
> Chp 5 will be up tomorrow :))


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read this far, thank you so much!!! And to those who commented or left kudos, thank you even more <3
> 
> As always, thank you to  Nic for all of your help...you made this fic so much better and I will be forever grateful! Also a huge thank you to  Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I love you both a lot <3

After leaving Liam's, Harry ends up sleeping at Niall’s. He’s far too upset to be left alone and neither Niall or Zayn was keen to let him anyway. Harry didn't even protest when Niall insisted that he come back with him, just nodded resigned, allowing him to quietly lead them there.

Niall farts in his sleep and Harry knows this, but he shares a bed with him anyway. He knows full well that he will be an equally horrible bedmate. 

On the drive in to rehearsals the next day, Niall lets Harry know that he and Liam spoke about rehearsals while he was in the shower that morning. Harry looks at him expectantly, immediately suspecting that he isn't going to like what his friend has to say. Niall isn't smiling so that’s a pretty big tell. And it turns out Harry isn't wrong because his words cut deeply. There are dark rings under his friend's eyes and Harry's pretty sure he's responsible for putting them there. The fact that he cried himself to sleep as the mattress shook from his sobs leaves very little room for doubt.

“We think it's best if you and Louis limit your interactions today. Especially in front of the team.” When Harry doesn't respond he pushes forward. “It's for the best. Just in case Simon’s got eyes in there. We’ll be able to buy some time if he thinks that you're cooperating.”

Harry's heart drops as he thinks about purposely ignoring Louis. It’s going to be damn near impossible.

“Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay.” Harry's answer is slow and quiet, laced with pain. His friends have a point. But just because they’re right doesn't mean that Harry has to like it. 

“It's just temporary,” Niall reassures him. Harry stares out the window without responding. The sky is dark with rain clouds and sheets of water are falling steadily against the glass. It feels appropriate somehow, the melancholy of the London rain, familiar in a way that is grounding. The rhythm of it calms his nerves, as much as one can be calmed when they feel as though they're being torn apart. 

Due to the lack of restful sleep, rehearsals find Harry with eyes red and puffy. He's bone tired and twitching anxiously at every little thing, but at least he's there. That has to count for something. 

Throughout rehearsals Louis and Harry skirt around one another, leaving wide berths, in an attempt to avoid eye contact. It's deliberate, but that doesn't make it any less painful. During a run through of Little Things, he excuses himself, claiming that he needs to use the loo, but then hides in one of the stalls to cry instead. Other than that slip up he reckons he's doing okay. Or maybe not okay, but at least the best he can. 

The entire day feels like a test of restraint and Harry is pretty sure he's failing horribly.

It's even harder than he anticipated, avoiding Louis. It seems that all he can think about is how much he'd love to touch him. G _ od _ , how he misses touching him, especially now that it feels as if the world is closing in on him. In reality, it's only been a few days, but it feels more like weeks since the last time. He just...misses him so damn much.

The gentle touches are the ones he finds himself missing the most. The tiniest brush of their hands when no one's paying attention. A warm hand to the small of his back. Or a soft hand on his hip guiding him forward. All of them small, yet intimate and oh, how Harry yearns for them now.

There are others, too, naturally. Fingers lightly twirling in his curls before tugging them. One silly finger poking into his cheek making the two of them giggle like children, oblivious to everyone around them. He would give his left arm to be able to touch Louis again. 

That's not allowed anymore, though. Somewhere in the dark corner of his mind, he wonders whether he'll ever have that privilege again. He quickly shoves those thoughts aside before they cripple him and send him running back to the bathroom stall to empty the limited contents of his stomach. 

It makes sense, he supposes, to let Simon assume that he's done what was asked of him. Still, pretending to be strangers hurts. At one point during the day, Harry had stood right beside Louis, yet somehow felt miles and miles away from him. Several times throughout the day he found himself reaching out, only to catch himself just in time to snatch his hand back. Quickly, as if he'd been burned. 

Unlearning habits is hard. Especially for the two of them who have always been incredibly tactile. So Harry is relieved when rehearsals wrap up for the day, even moreso to be traveling back to Liam's where he no longer needs to worry about which way his eyes are pointed. 

He wonders how Louis will act when he's no longer under the watchful eyes of their team. It's slightly fucked up that they needed to be so guarded when Simon wasn't even there today, but time has taught them all that Simon has plenty of people on call, ready to do his bidding. So better safe than sorry.

They won't need to worry about this at Liam's, though. So Harry is both anxious to get there as well as hopeful that Louis will consider coming home tonight. He knows that it's a foolish thing to hope for, but he can't help himself. 

As they drive there, Harry watches the pellets of rain hit the glass once again. It's been like this all day and it feels symbolic somehow, like the sky is crying with him. And he's somewhat grateful for that because a day of bright sunshine would have felt wildly out of place. 

~~~

 

“I think we should hire a private attorney. One that’s not affiliated with Sony in any way. Because we're not gonna be able to figure this out without some guidance,” Niall implores the group, but mostly he's speaking to Louis. He's the one being targeted right now, after all. 

“If we sue, they'll counter sue. We've been through this before, Niall.” Louis’ arse is numb from sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His head is tilted back so he directs his words towards the ceiling. 

They've been at this for hours again, talking in more circles, without getting anywhere. There’s only a handful of things that all five of them agree on. The first is that their problems with Simon are far bigger than any of them could've possibly imagined. He's got them under lock and key with iron clad contracts and there doesn't seem to be a way to subvert his power.

“What if we don't sue?” Liam asks. 

Louis straightens up for the explicit purpose of fixing his glare upon him. Because the second thing that all five of them had agreed on is that they had every intention of fighting back. 

None of them were willing to let Louis be a pawn in Simon's hateful games. Their unified decision to fight back is one of the only things helping Louis to hold himself together right now. 

“Liam, what the fuck?” Somehow Zayn is speaking Louis’ mind. 

“I know, but just hear me out. Our hands may be tied as far as litigation due to the NDAs, but that doesn't mean we wouldn't benefit from some solid legal advice. What if, like Niall said, we retained someone that could privately advise us? But more specifically - like how to beat Simon at his game?” Liam suggests.

All of the sudden Louis finds himself perking up. A quick glance around the room tells him that he's not alone. Harry is looking up from the floor that he's been fixated on all night and Niall has propped his chin up on his hand. He's watching Liam with renewed interest. 

“He's right.” Harry’s voice surprises Louis, because up to this point, he has been resolutely quiet. Louis’ eyebrows lift as he watches him curiously. 

“We’ll need help if we want to try to beat Simon at his game,” Harry continues, his voice deep and scratchy from lack of use. 

“Jesus Christ guys, this isn't a fucking game!” Zayn shouts. His distaste for this idea is even more unexpected than Harry finally finding his voice. “That fucking psycho wants to hire someone to have your boyfriend’s baby and that's not even the half of it, Harry! It's not a fucking game!”

Harry looks as though he's been slapped and Zayn is seething. He has every reason to be upset, but his anger is grossly misplaced. In his defense, it's been a long two days. Nothing's getting solved and tensions are running high.

Niall's eyes flit anxiously around the room while Liam is now the one staring at his feet. 

“Zayn…” Louis starts cautiously, but he's interrupted by Harry.

“I know it's not a game.” Harry's voice sounds calm, but his hands betray him as they clench and unclench nervously in his lap. “But if we’re restricted from filing a lawsuit for defamation of character, then what choice do we have? Do we just let him get away with this or do we fight back?”

The question hangs heavy in the air for a few minutes while they mull it over once again. True, they'd already agreed to fight back, but now they're proposing a whole new way of doing it. There are serious things to consider before they make any more decisions. 

If the five of them band together against Simon, as discussed, there will be implications for  _ all  _ of them. Right now, his battle lies with predominantly with Louis, because Simon sees Louis as a barrier to his future success. Louis has been an outspoken leader for the group through the years and with negotiations on the horizon, Simon's clearly worried about Louis’ influence. Particularly as it it pertains to Harry.

Knowing that Simon fears him is a bit of a mind fuck. On one hand, it makes him feel a bit powerful, the fact that he's been able to impress him enough to care. On the other hand, he wishes that Simon would forget his name, forget all their names, and just let them be. 

He won't though. They've been his single greatest success to date; Simon will suck every last drop of blood from them that he can until he's finally forced to let them go. 

And if they decide to take him on? Decide to challenge him? They’ll all be subjected to some of the same. There's no doubt about it. Simon is nothing if not vindictive; he will absolutely retaliate if challenged.

No one wants to be the first one to speak. And Louis’ mind is spinning. Because Harry is right. Liam too. It’s not that simple, though. They will all be affected if they decide to fight back. Louis doesn’t want to see his friends dragged into this mess, but there really doesn’t seem to be another option. Their voices have been effectively silenced so there is truly only one way for them to come out on top. They have to play the game. 

“Harry's right,” He announces and is rewarded with Harry's eyes finally focusing on him. If he's not mistaken, he thinks that he might have also seen the tiniest twitch of a smile at the corner of Harry's mouth.

Throughout the day and for a large part of the evening, Harry has been largely avoiding him. And he thinks he understands why, but it still smarts. He has to constantly remind himself of the words that Harry didn't mean just so he can breathe again. 

_ I'm not in love with you anymore. _

He didn't mean it. Still, remembering the words knocks the wind out of him. He has to take a few seconds to catch his breath again. 

“There has to be a way for us to circumvent the bullshit or attack it in a covert way, but we’d need someone to tell us exactly how far we can push without risking breach of contract,” Louis explains. 

“We could ask some of our industry contacts privately as well. They might be able to steer us towards people who can help us. We're not the first ones to get fucked over by their label,” Harry tacks on. 

He's right again. They don't have to fight this battle alone. They're fortunate enough be in a position to enlist help. Something akin to hope starts blooming in the center of Louis’ chest. 

As he looks around the room at the other boys, he sees similar expressions upon their faces. Harry looks less likely to burst into tears and Niall and Liam are outwardly smiling. 

Zayn seems to be the only one hesitating, but that doesn't last for too long. Louis catches his eye and shrugs at him as if to say  _ maybe it's worth a try. _ Zayn rolls his eyes in response, but there's no anger behind them anymore.

“Who should we call first?” Zayn asks the room and Louis smiles for the first time in four days.

~~~

 

“I'm gonna kip here again tonight, Haz.” Harry listens to Louis’ words, but they sound all wrong. 

_ No.  _

Louis should be coming back home with him. The five of them finally made some progress tonight. Some phone calls were made and a few others planned for the next day. They have the very rough start of a plan. They're going to figure this out and everything is going to work out in the end. 

So Louis needs to come home with him. Harry is both ridiculously tired as well as stressed and he  _ needs _ him. He needs  _ them. _

“But I thought...we have a plan...or the start of one...so I thought…” Harry trails off. He's seconds away from crying again after doing so good tonight. He hadn't cried once, a marked improvement. 

“Yeah and I'm so grateful for that, so grateful for all of you,” Louis tells him.

There's a ‘but’ coming and Harry knows without a doubt that he doesn't want to hear it. He braces himself for it anyway.

“We talked a lot about the group tonight, the five of us and what this all means,” Louis says carefully, “but you and I haven't had a chance to talk about what happened yet. Or what it means for our relationship.”

“But you could come home and we could talk there?” Harry asks, but he knows it's futile. Louis’ mind is made up. 

“Haz. You're exhausted. And truth be told, so am I. We both need sleep before rehearsals tomorrow. So this conversation will have to wait a little longer.”

“How much longer?” Harry chokes out. Dammit, he's crying again. It seems that's all he does anymore. “I can't. I can't sleep without you.” A tormented sob escapes him and maybe he should be embarrassed for feeling so much, but this is Louis. They're way past that point in their relationship. “I miss you so much, Lou.”

“God, Haz. I miss you too.” Louis’ eyes look shiny, but he's holding it together far better than him. Harry wishes he could be that strong. “How bout tomorrow after rehearsals you and me get together for dinner? We can talk then?” 

It's not soon enough, but at least it's something. Harry nods, too upset to do more than mumble his okay. 

“Okay. Good,” Louis says before stretching his arms out wide. “Come on,” Louis instructs him gently and Harry goes because it's the only place he really wants to be. He buries his face in the crook of Louis’ neck and breathes deeply, trying to memorize his scent before they separate for the night once more.

He probably holds on a little too long, but Louis doesn't push him away this time so at least there's that. After a few minutes, they break apart. “I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Louis checks in one last time. 

“Yeah,” Harry replies and then he turns towards the door. 

_ Tomorrow _ . 

Harry prays that tomorrow is the day that Louis comes back to him. That tomorrow is the day he comes back home.

~~~

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chp 6 will be up tomorrow and it's a big one :))


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read this far, thank you so much!!! And to those who commented or left kudos, thank you even more <3
> 
> As always, thank you to  Nic for all of your help...you made this fic so much better and I will be forever grateful! Also a huge thank you to  Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I love you both a lot <3

It's been almost a week since Louis has last been home. And though he wouldn't necessarily say that he's nervous about returning, his stomach begs to differ. It feels twisted inside out. He'd barely been able to eat during their lunch break today.

He’d taken note of the fact that Harry didn't eat at all, so if Louis had to guess, he reckons Harry's a bit worse off. Other than noticing Harry's lack of nutrition, he couldn't get a good read on his emotions, seeing as he's meant to be avoiding him. Which? Has been truly awful.

Paying close attention to all things Harry is practically written in his DNA so these last few days have taken a toll on him. And he knows he's not alone.

Thinking back to the look on Harry's face the last two nights as they said goodbye breaks Louis’ heart all over again. Seeing Harry broken like that is not something he's proud of. He prefers Harry smiling, with deep dimples and sparkling eyes. It's a bonus when that happiness is focused on him and the biggest thrill of all when it's _because_ of him.

Louis hopes that the two of them can get back to that. Get back to the way they were before being flung into this turbulent mess that caught them both off guard, wholly unprepared. He understands now why Harry did what he did, although he desperately wishes that he hadn't.

And that right there? Is why his stomach's tied up in knots.

They left rehearsals separately in order to keep up pretences, agreeing to meet back at their flat straight afterwards. Louis laments the fact that he doesn't have his car with him today. If he did, he'd be able to focus on driving instead of the impending conversation that the two of them need to have, but unfortunately for him, he's a passenger left with nothing but time. Time that he's spent replaying everything that's happened over the last week. Suffice to say, it's been a miserable drive so he's quite thankful to be almost there so he can freed from his own mind.

When the driver pulls in, Louis takes careful inventory of the windows, checking if the lights are on. They are, which means that Harry's here already.

Louis sits in the car for a few moments longer, taking several deep breaths, working himself into the right mindset for their talk. Christ, it's like he’s preparing to go to battle, and that's not even close to reality. Louis’ battles are all reserved for Simon and his team.

His hopes for tonight, for this dinner with Harry, are that the two of them are able to reach certain understandings. And that they’re able to grow stronger. Together. Because Louis has never stopped wanting that. For them to find a way to stay together despite all of the bullshit that's been forced upon them. Bullshit they'll continue to face if they make the choice to stay.

And he really hopes that Harry chooses him. Because even though he's alluded to the fact that he still wants this, wants them, he _does_ still have a choice. Louis has already decided. His mind has been made up for a while now.

If it turns out that they do both want the same things, they'll have a rough road ahead of them. It will be hard, there's no doubt, but Louis feels like the fight against their label will be worth the while in the end. And not just for them, but for all the boys. God knows they've all been through enough.

Surely they deserve some happiness.

~~~

 

It's ridiculous, Harry knows this, yet he can't seem to save himself from...himself. He's completely stressed out about tonight, about stupid things that don't matter. Not even a little bit. Not when looking at the big picture, anyway.

They haven't been home at the same time in close to a week though. And while they've endured longer stretches of time apart, it's never been like this. It's never been by choice. In the past, it's been work obligations which kept them separated so the truth is, Harry's nervous. Scared to death more like. Louis told him that it was just a pause, but what if he changed his mind since then? The thought sends him spiraling straight to nowhere good.

His mind keeps jumping back to the day he'd said those horrible words and then had a front row seat to watch the love of his life fall apart. It's hands down the worst thing Harry's ever done and if he could travel back in time, he'd take those words back in an instant.

But this is not a sci-fi movie. Harry isn't a time master and he can't erase what's already been done. He’ll apologize every day for the rest of his life if that's what Louis wants, but he'll never be able to unsee the expression on Louis’ face.

He’ll never be able to unhurt him.

Seeing that he can't change the past, Harry's stressing about the here and now instead. Louis will probably be here any minute and Harry is beside himself. He's been rushing around, desperately trying to straighten up the mess he'd left behind when he left with zayn a few nights ago, but is failing spectacularly. First he dropped an empty beer bottle in the sink because his hands were shaking so badly. Then, as he rushed to get supplies to clean up the shards of glass, he tripped over his own feet and went flying, landing sprawled out across the floor.

He doesn't have time to cook a meal worthy of Louis’ forgiveness, there's dirty dishes piled up in the sink along with the broken bottle, and his ankle is throbbing from the fall. The only thing he _did_ manage to do, in fact, was to put fresh sheets on their bed, and that's actually tragic because he has no reason to believe that Louis will agree to stay.

So basically, he's wasted precious time, dinner isn't ready, there's a half empty whiskey bottle still sitting out on the counter, Harry's stuck on the floor with a hurt ankle, and the universe clearly hates him because he's pretty sure that he can hear Louis’ key jingling in the door.

And five seconds later, his suspicions are confirmed.

“Haz?”

“In here,” Harry answers, wincing, whilst trying to pull himself up without putting too much pressure on his ankle.

“Shit, what happened to you?” Louis asks, sincerely concerned as he rounds the corner and finds Harry struggling to stand.

And for some ridiculous reason, that's all it takes for the floodgates to open yet again. One innocent question about his wellbeing and tears start to stream down his face, rendering him unable to speak.

Within seconds Louis is at his side, offering him an arm, helping Harry over to one of their kitchen chairs. He walks away for a minute and returns with a bottle of water, an ice pack, and some tissues. Harry sends him a small but grateful smile and blows his nose loudly.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks him after he's had a few moments to pull himself together. He's sitting on the chair across from Harry watching him carefully. On the surface, it sounds like a loaded question, but Harry understands what he really means.

“Yeah. I don't think it's sprained,” Harry says. “The pains already fading.”

“Good.” Louis nods at him.

God, when did talking become so painfully awkward? Have they already forgotten how to be around one another? It hasn't even been a week. Harry's tears have stopped, but it feels like they might start again at any moment. So he changes the subject.

“I didn't have time to make fajitas or beef stew, obviously. So I was thinking of making tomato soup with cheese toasties. I know it's not very exciting, but we don't have much…”

“Sounds delicious,” Louis cuts him off. He's smiling at Harry and it's throwing him even further off center because he's still not sure how tonight's going to go. It's unsettling, feeling this unsure.

“Okay,” Harry replies simply. “Let me just...” He pushes himself up slowly, testing out his ankle to make sure that he can put pressure on it. Louis makes a move to stand, but Harry stops him, “It's okay actually. It's not too bad.”

And it's really not that bad. Harry's limping a little, but it's nothing he can't handle.

“Let me take care of dinner.” Louis actually does stand up this time, ready to follow, and Harry looks at him as if he's got three heads. Louis sighs heavily. “Harry, it's cheese toasties and soup. I can manage. You're limping.”

“I promise I'm fine,” Harry insists and then watches as Louis folds his arms across his chest, silently appraising him.

“We can cook together,” Louis offers as compromise.

This time Harry doesn't even bother protesting because he knows it's pointless. Louis is already moving across the kitchen, grabbing everything that they need.

When he sees the broken bottle in the sink, he looks to Harry who shrugs helplessly, “It slipped.” Louis nods, having the decency to let it go without commenting. He also pointedly ignores the half-empty bottle of whiskey still sitting there without it’s cap, and sets about cleaning up the broken glass before they get started on dinner.

They cook quietly side by side and it's so domestic and familiar that Harry almost lets himself forget that there’s a serious conversation yet to be had.

_Almost._

When they sit down to eat, it comes rushing back to him in a fury and his stomach revolts at the soup sitting before him. Louis notices right away and stretches his hand across the table, gently brushing it over top of Harry's.

“You need to eat, Haz. You didn't eat lunch today.” Somehow, knowing that Louis was looking after him even when he wasn't supposed to be offers his belly a tiny reprieve. Although it could also be the brush of Louis’ hand against his own. It's been so long since they've touched that he felt an actual jolt of electricity at the contact.

Harry picks up his sandwich and takes a tiny bite off the corner. Louis smiles at him in response, dipping his own sandwich in his soup. Harry smiles back, albeit a small one, and the two of them continue to eat quietly until, unable to stand the heightened silence any longer, Harry finally snaps.

“I'm so sorry, Lou. What I said? It was so horrible. If I could take it back, I would do it in a heartbeat.” Harry's speaking faster than normal, wringing his hands the whole while. He feels frantic with nerves, paranoid that he's fucking things up even worse than he’s already done. “I just...I know I can't take it back, but please Lou. You have to know how sorry I am.”

Louis sets his spoon down and seems to consider his words carefully before responding. “Harry. That's not what this is about. It’s not about _what_ you said.”

Harry stares back at him unblinking, waiting for him to explain. Louis pushes his food away and sighs, “I don't want your apologies, Haz. I want to understand _why._ Why didn't you come to me right away after meeting with Simon?”

“I don't know,” Harry says with a broken voice.

“That's not good enough Harry. This is important. If we're going to try to make this work, if we have a chance of staying together, I need to know _why_. Because Simon's not going to stop. You know this. And if he corners you again?...I can't go through that again.” Louis hangs his head, his voice dropping a few octaves. “I...I wasn't okay Harry. I wasn't okay and then you didn't call...and I can't go through that again.”

Harry's eyes fill up. This is his fault. His heart aches, reminding him how badly he’s hurt Louis. “I'm sorry, Lou.”

Louis’ head snaps up instantly. “Stop that,” he hisses. “I _told_ you Haz. I don't want your apology. I wanna know _why_.”

“But I don't know why,” Harry pleads with Louis, imploring him to understand. A frustrated tear spills over. He can’t tell Louis the full truth. Because if he _knows_? If he truly knows how cowardly his actions were then he might never forgive Harry.

“Yes you do!” Louis yells, even more frustrated, throwing his hands in the air. “There has to be a reason! You don't just decide to walk away without thinking about it first! And you were already pulling away days before you decided to leave. I _felt_ it. I felt you leaving before you were gone.”

Harry knows exactly what he’s referring to. After Simon pulled him into the private meeting, Harry retreated inside himself. He tried to stop, especially when he saw how it was affecting Louis, but he simply couldn’t. Visions of Simon's future plans attacked him mercilessly. If felt like a dark cloud was closing in on him, obscuring all light. Clawing at him, wrapping itself around him until it became impossible to breathe. And through it all, he caught glimpses of Simon watching him. Quietly, with his arms folded across his chest, silently bidding him to do the right thing.

Thinking back to how he walked away from the love of his life cuts deeply. He didn’t want to and he nearly killed himself in the process, but he still did it. He still walked away.

“I was so scared.” His words are no more than a whisper, spoken between slow falling tears.

“Scared of what, Haz? Tell me.” Louis voice is lower; he's no longer yelling. Instead, he's looking at Harry expectantly, patiently waiting for him to continue.

Harry doesn't even know how it happens, but suddenly words spill from his lips mixed in with his tears. “He’s going to make you a father. A baby, Lou! And he told me exactly how he'd do it, how he had the journos on call, ready and willing to destroy you. A cheating scandal, drugs, party boy, fuck boy, a trashy baby mom...god, Lou. I couldn't let them do that to you! That's...none of that's you! You're the best person I know.” His voice grows more and more manic as he tries to explain, because Louis is shaking his head back and forth, unimpressed.

“But that wasn't your choice to make, Harry. _You_ don't get to decide what _I'm_ capable of handling.”

“I couldn't just let them destroy you! I couldn't.” Harry shudders. “I couldn't watch the news report about _new dad, Louis Tomlinson!_ That's _our_ story, Lou! It was going to be ours someday. And they threatened to take it and turn it into something hideous.” Harry can taste the salt from his own tears on his lips and his hands are trembling, clenched into tight balls by his side. “You'd never get to be ‘Louis Tomlinson first time dad’ again. They’re gonna take that from you.”

“From us.” Louis replies quietly.

“From us,” Harry echoes.

“Harry.” Louis starts, but then stops again, taking several deep breaths whilst collecting his thoughts.

“You were scared for _you.”_ Louis finally says.

Harry stares at Louis in disbelief. How in the world did he work it out so quickly? Is Harry really that transparent? Because he feels practically see-through, exposed and raw to Louis’ keen eye.

“You were scared that you wouldn't be able to handle the narrative. And you took that fear and put it on _me_ . _You decided._ Without ever even telling me that this was a possibility. Without giving me a say. You made a choice. And you decided it was easier to walk away than to watch this shit show play out.”

“No,” he gasps, knowing that it's a meaningless denial even as he says it. Louis’ words hit Harry hard, because of course he's right. Harry was terrified. And seeing the truth from Louis’ point of view is even more painful than Harry could've imagined. He never thought that it could hurt more than it already did. But god, he was so wrong.

It does.

His body is violently shaking and the few bites of dinner are threatening to come back up. How is Louis ever going to forgive him this? Would he be able to if the situation was reversed?

It's true that Harry hadn't meant the words he said. He never stopped loving Louis. But he _did_ walk away. He did. And now he has to come to terms with what that means.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm sorry, Lou. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” Harry chants over and over again, rocking in his seat as tears continue to fall.

“It’s just...Harry? If you'd talked to me that day? If you'd told me the things Simon threatened?” Louis starts. “Well I probably would've cried first if I’m honest. It's honestly scary as fuck, the things he's dreamt up in his sick mind. And then I would've been enraged. But in the end? I would've chosen to stay.”

And that’s when Harry really gets it. That’s when everything clicks into place. Louis would have chosen to stay. But Harry didn’t; _he left_ . It’s no wonder Louis hasn’t agreed to come home. Harry cries even harder because now that he sees his actions for what they actually were, he wouldn’t blame Louis if he left tonight and never came back. Harry deserves that. _I left him_.

Louis watches him quietly, Allows Harry time to process the things they’ve discussed so far. He's not reaching out, not touching Harry or offering him any comfort. And Harry understands why. It’s like Louis said in the beginning. _This is important._ It is, he realizes.

There’s something niggling at the back of his mind though. “How do you know you would’ve stayed, Lou? I mean, I get that you _think_ you would have. But how do you _really know_? The things that Simon threatened were awful and you’re one of the most protective people I know. How do you know that you wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him too?”

Louis looks dumbstruck as he contemplates Harry’s words. A full minute goes by without either of them speaking and during that time, Harry replays his own words over and over again in his mind. He feels like he’s wasting time with _what if_ s. The truth is that they’ll never know what Louis would have done in the same situation, because that’s not how it happened. What they need to deal with tonight is what _did_ happen. They need to determine whether or not they can move forward.

This might be the only opportunity Harry gets to convince Louis to give him another chance. To convince him that he’d never leave again. That next time, if there comes a next time, and Harry was given a choice, he’d stay. But in order to do so, he has to do a better job of explaining why he left the first time. Admitting that he was scared isn't enough. And the thought of them being unable to move forward is terrifying.

“You don’t have to answer. We’ll probably never know what you would’ve done. I just wanted you to think about it in reverse because it felt impossible to me at the time.” Harry’s breath hitches. “And I know you said to stop apologizing, but I don’t feel like I can. I'm so sorry, Lou. If I could take it back, I want you to know that I would.” He's repeating himself. He has to pause to wipe his eyes. “At the time, I convinced myself that I was doing it to protect you. But all I ended up doing was hurting you. Hurting us both.”

Louis must see how badly he needs him, because he reaches over with one of his hands and tangles their fingers together. Then he nods at Harry, encouraging him to continue.

And this part is so hard, but Harry's determined.

They don't do this. They don't talk about their feelings. Of course they say ‘I love you’, but beyond that, they never put it into words, how much they mean to one another. Instead, they write it into songs where they can keep the sentiment safe. Because songs aren't black and white; they’re a million variants of gray. One can easily pretend that they’re writing a story about a friend, or even a stranger. Songs can say a lot without ever really saying anything at all.

So with the exception of lyrics, they don't talk about it. For Harry, at least, it's probably due to the fact that his feelings are so big. It's almost impossible to wrap his head around them sometimes. But now is not the time for playing safe.

It's time to be honest. Time to lay it all on the line. Otherwise, how will he ever look at his reflection in the mirror again?

“I think...well I know that I was scared of what they'd do to you. Because it would hurt.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut and feels Louis’ hand lightly squeezing him back. “It would hurt so much. But.” Harry opens his eyes again and is immediately met with clear blue. “I think I was more afraid that it would be too much for you. I'm still afraid that it will be.”

Harry's breath catches in his throat, but he will get these words out if it kills him. He will lay himself bare. “The truth is that I was scared that you’d be the one to leave. That it would end up being too much, and you’d decide to leave me.” With the words finally out, Harry completely breaks down, his body shaking as he sobs.

“Oh Haz.” Louis finally says, as he slides his chair closer and wraps Harry in his arms, offering him comfort that Harry's not sure he deserves, but desperately craves.

They remain like that for a few minutes, just sitting there quietly, holding one another, both of them sniffling as they try to push back tears.

“I left so you wouldn't get the opportunity to leave first.” It's the bitter truth. The final nail in his own coffin. And he says it into Louis neck, ashamed of what he's done.

 **“** But you were also trying to protect me.” Louis reminds him gently. And that sounds an awful lot like forgiveness, but surely it can't be. It feels too soon, too raw for that to be the case. But is it? It's been almost a week since _that day_ and they've both been immeasurably broken. Perhaps Louis feels the same way he does. Maybe he's ready to start stitching them back together again.

Harry picks his head up, and meets Louis’ eyes again, wondering how they’ll be able to move on from here. Can Louis truly forgive him? Will he stay? It feels dangerous to hope, but he hopes anyway. He holds his breath when Louis starts to speak again.

“I know you wanted to protect me, Haz. And I understand that you needed to protect your heart as well, but I need to be sure that we're on the same page. Because if we do this? If we give ourselves permission to move forward? The next time something like this happens, we need to be honest with another. We need to be able to talk it through.” He pauses for a moment, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “If you still want this, that is.”

_If you still want this._

“Are you saying…?”

“Your heart is good, baby. I know you would never intentionally hurt me. So yes, I'm telling you that I choose us. Given a chance, I'm always gonna choose you, Haz.”

A high-pitched sob escapes Harry's throat, but for the first time in days, it's not a product of despair. Rather, sweet relief at the forgiveness that's being offered. And renewed hope for the future that seems possible again. Of course, it goes without saying, that they are going to have more than their fair share of challenges, but Harry doesn't care right now.

Louis _chose_ him. He chose _them_. Nothing else matters.

“Of course I still want this, Lou.” Harry reassures him reverently through misty eyes. “I'm always going to want us. Always gonna want you _._ ”

The smile that lights up Louis’ face is blinding. It's been almost a week since Harry's seen him smile like this and that's almost seven days too long. God, what would he have done if he'd had go on living without this? He's so unbelievably relieved that he won't have to find out.

They're sitting close together, face to face, but Harry needs to get closer. He scoots his chair forward a bit so that their knees are touching and then locks their ankles together too. Reaching out tentatively, he links their hands as well and then leans forward to rest their foreheads against one another.

“Is this okay?” Harry breathes out softly, trying to preserve this delicate quiet that has finally settled over them.

“Yeah.” Louis answers just as soft.

They remain like that for a while, and it's like a balm for Harry's wounded soul. He breathes deeply, expecting apples and vanilla, but instead smells clean boy and, “oranges?”

Louis’ eyes pop open and Harry lets himself drown in the depths of clear blue. “Liam's,” Louis smiles, but this time it's small, tinted with a hint of pain. It doesn't touch his eyes.

He seems to get lost in the memory of their time apart and Harry gives him the quiet space to work through it. The last few days have been a harsh reminder of just how fragile love can be. Even when it feels as though it's strong enough to weather a storm, it can be tested. Theirs has been and it's going to take some time to get past that.

Louis sits back after another minute, putting some space between them, but not so much that they actually untangle themselves. The need to feel physically connected is probably just as strong for Louis as it is for him. They've always been extremely tactile, reliant on small touches when words were expressly forbidden.

A sliver of a smile remains, but Harry can see that he's still thinking and he suspects that this conversation isn't truly over yet. It seems like Louis has more that he wants to say so Harry sits quietly, waiting. It doesn't take long.

“Harry? I know you said you want this, want me. But I just want to make sure you understand? If this becomes too much? You still have a choice, Haz. You get to choose if it's worth it to stay.”

“I'm never gonna do that again. I'm never gonna leave,” Harry promises him without hesitation.

Louis closes his eyes, taking what appears to be a painful deep breath. “You don't know that, Haz. You can't possibly. It’s like what you just said before. Neither one of us knows what we're up against. So I know you say this now, but…” He trails off, lost in thought once more.

It's hard to watch Louis sort through his emotions. Steady and sure to questioning everything that they are again. But Harry knows that he is largely to blame for the uncertainty. So he gives him time.

And then when he can't bite his tongue anymore, Harry tries to reassure him again. “I was so afraid I lost you. So afraid I fucked everything up.” His fingers trace comforting circles on the back of Louis’ hands as he speaks. “And I know it may take some time before you believe me, but I promise you, Lou. I promise. I'm never going to leave again.”

“It might get really bad, Hazza.” Louis’ eyes are serious. He's worried. And he's not wrong to be. Simon is a formidable force.

Still. Harry is determined. He knows what he wants. More than anything else, he wants Lou. He wants _them._

“I know,” He answers Louis simply.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They haven't solved the bigger problem looming over all of them, but they've taken some steps towards fixing themselves. And somehow that feels more important. Harry can almost trick himself into believing that they've won when in reality, the fight hasn't even begun yet.

It's enough for right now though. They reheat their food that's barely half-eaten and finish it slowly, quietly. It feels familiar, like coming home after spending an extended time abroad.

The effects of the last week settle in, assuming the form of exhaustion. A huge yawn escapes Harry's mouth before he can stop it. Louis tries to fight it, but ends up yawning as well. Harry wonders offhandedly if Louis’ body hurts like his does too. And if he misses their bed.

“Sorry. I haven't been sleeping well,” Louis answers his unspoken question. Harry wants to smooth out the dark lines beneath his eyes.

“God. Me either. Lou...do you think? Would you want…? It's okay if you don't want to…”

“You want me to cuddle you to sleep?” Louis asks, his voice teasing, but also a hint hopeful.

“Only if you want to. I don't want to assume...” Harry trails off again. He's afraid to hope, but tosses all his pennies in the wishing well anyway.

“I want. I told you already Haz. I choose you. I want to share a bed with you again.” His eyes look so soft, so sincere, that Harry finds himself tearing up again, overcome with emotion.

“Even if I snore?”

“Even though you _do_ snore.” Louis grins. And Harry's heart constricts painfully. _God._ He almost lost this.

“Lou? I know you said you don't want my apologies. But I _am_ sorry. I'm so sorry. I just need to say it one more time.”

“I'm sorry too, baby. I'm sorry that any of this is even happening. I'm sorry that the world isn't more accepting. Maybe then we wouldn't be in this mess. In another time or place maybe Simon wouldn't have cared so much. And we could have just...been.”

It's a dream. Being able to just _be_. Harry has imagined this alternative place at least a half a million times. “I'm not sorry about us though,” Harry voices out loud. He might wish that the world was different, but he would never wish for them to be.

“Never _. Never,_ do you understand me? I will never, ever be sorry for loving you.”

“Me either, Lou. You're the best person I know. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Louis leans forward and pulls Harry into his arms, hugging him tight. His face is buried in Harry's neck and his hot breath fans across his skin. He relaxes into his embrace, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

Perhaps it's the exhaustion playing mind games, but he feels as if he's melting, sinking into an euphoric state where the only thing that matters is the warm arms around him, this boy and the hot puffs of breath against his neck. He sighs happily for the first time in what feels like forever and his entire body follows the motion.

“Let's go to bed, baby.” Louis’ voice caresses the soft skin by his ear and he shivers, nodding his agreement.

Side by side, they brush their teeth and wash their hands and faces. It feels domestic, and so _right_.

Harry knows that they're going to bed for the purpose of sleeping. Neither one of them has the energy for anything more and even if they did, he's not sure they're ready. And he doesn’t want to push things. He’s happy just to have this. Just to be close to Louis again.

Still, he has an overwhelming desire to be even closer, to touch skin. So he approaches Louis carefully, watching for his reaction. His eyes track Harry as he moves towards him, but he doesn't try to stop him. Rather, it's the opposite. His eyes seem to beckon him closer, silently encouraging him.

When Harry reaches him, he rests his hands on Louis’ hips for a moment before tugging gently at the bottom of his sweater, wordlessly asking permission.

“It's okay,” Louis whispers, seeming just as reluctant as Harry to break the quiet.

“K.” Harry slowly pulls Louis’ sweater up and off his body, dropping it to the ground beside them. His hands trail up and down Louis’ sides, and Harry catalogs the feeling of his skin, silky smooth under his fingertips. Then he leans in and presses his lips directly against Louis’ heart. He can feel it beating steadily beneath his lips, and when it stutters from his kiss, he feels that too.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers again, speaking straight to his heart. Straight to the part he hurt the most.

Louis pulls him back up without speaking and gently removes his shirt the same way, dropping it on top of his sweater. His hand hovers over the button of Harry's jeans and he raises his eyebrow in question. When Harry nods, Louis pushes them down, leaving him standing in just his pants. Then he pushes his own down as well, steps out of them, and reaches for Harry's hand.

“Can I be the big spoon tonight, Lou?” Harry is always the little spoon. Always. Has been since back on _The X Factor_ when he was significantly smaller than he is now. He's grown a lot since then, but never stopped craving the comfort of Louis’ arms. Tonight Harry needs to be the one doing the holding, though.

Clear blue eyes stare back at him, highlighted by the soft light of their bedside lamps. “Okay,” Louis answers as they crawl under the covers. Harry's surprised that he doesn't push back, but perhaps Louis needs his comfort every bit as much as Harry needs to give it.

At first they lay facing one another with fingers laced together, tracing mindless shapes against their skin. Feeling their hearts matching one another's rhythm through their pulses under their thumbs. The heartbeats even out slowly. Steady. And they watch each other quietly, eyes linked, blue to green.

It becomes increasingly difficult to fight the exhaustion that threatens to take over, their eyes blinking heavy for longer stretches of time. “Turn over,” Harry urges, his words hazy and blurred.

And Louis complies, rolling so that his back faces Harry’s front and scooting backwards into Harry's arms. He shuffles around for a while, attempting to get comfortable in this position that's new to both of them. When he finally settles, Harry places his hand flat against Louis’ chest, feeling as it rises and falls. It's like a lullaby and he feels himself being dragged under.

Before he falls completely, he hears Louis whisper, “I'm scared, Haz.” It's so quiet that Harry almost misses it.

“I'm scared too,” Harry whispers back, his eyes open again, though heavy. “But you're worth it, Lou. _So_ worth it. Given a chance I'm going to choose you, too. Always.”

“I love you.” Harry feels Louis’ quiet exhale through the hand resting against his chest.

“I love you too. So much,” Harry tacks on before starting to slip under again. This time they both give in, letting sleep take over, fingers still laced together, their bellies rising and falling together as they breathe as one.

~~~

 

This is new. Not really new, just different. The room is dark and Louis is still riddled with exhaustion. A quick glance towards his clock lets him know that it’s still the middle of the night. He should still be sleeping, but Harry is making that impossible. He’s rutting against Louis in his sleep, his hard cock pushing the fabric of his pants in between his cheeks. This has happened before, but usually it’s in reverse, with Louis the big spoon. And usually they're naked, not in pants.

So this is...different. And arousing. He should be sleeping like Harry, but now that he’s up, he’s wide awake. How could he not be?

His skin feels flushed and he’s barely able to stop himself from pushing backwards into Harry’s cock. Harry’s skin is hot, burning as his body presses impossibly closer to Louis. And although he has a general idea, Louis wonders what he’s dreaming about. It must be a good one. The next thrust of his hips is so hard that Harry’s cockhead catches the rim of Louis’ hole through his pants, forcing a loud whimper from his lips.

A loud groan vibrates against his neck in response and Harry’s hand clutches tightly to his chest, his movements stilled for a moment.

He’s awake.

Though he doesn’t know why, Louis holds his breath, waiting for Harry to break the silence. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Sorry.” Harry finally exhales, his words sleep raspy. His body is thrumming like a live wire beside Louis, radiating with unspent energy. Harry's trying to hold his hips back, but fails after a few beats, unable to restrain himself. He pushes forward again and Louis rocks back with him, both of them moaning together this time.

“Need you,” Harry says as he pushes into him again. “I’m sorry.” He repeats himself over and over again as he continues grinding shamelessly into Louis. “Please Lou,” he whines as they continue to rock together.

“What do you need, love?” Louis somehow manages to ask.

Harry cries out behind him. “You. Need you. Wanna feel you inside me.” Harry sounds desperate.

This isn't how Louis imagined this playing out, considering the fact that Harry's practically fucking him through his briefs, but he prides himself on being able to give Harry what he needs. And apparently Harry needs him right now, so.

Denying him isn't an option. This week has been hell on earth for both of them. Without proper communication, they almost lost everything. And despite the fact they're on the mend, it won't feel official until they reconnect physically with one another. Louis feels this in his bones and it's clear that Harry does as well.

In the past, when words have failed them, their bodies have always risen to the occasion. It's been their foolproof means of communication since early days. Not ideal, but it works for them. Intimacy is incredibly important to both of them, ergo they've always had a healthy physical relationship.

Without overthinking things any further, Louis flips over so he's facing Harry and immediately brings their lips together. They lick into one another's mouths eagerly, neither of them concerned about the hours of sleep that color their breath.

Hands pull at hair frantically before reaching down to shove the last layer from their bodies. Both of their cocks are hard, bouncing off their abs as their briefs are tossed carelessly to the floor.

It's a manic fury of lips, spit, teeth, and fingers pressing into soft skin as they relearn one another. Somehow a week apart has felt more like a lifetime. Perhaps it's due to how close they came to losing one another. That thought propels Louis forward.

He wraps one of his hands around both of their lengths as best as he can. Harry closes the gap, his hand partially covering Louis’ as they start to pull one another off. Harry has leaked so much precome that they don't even need lube, there's more than enough to aid the glide as they slide against one another, panting into one another's mouths.

The room is impossibly hot and everything feels too good. So good that Louis almost forgets what Harry asked for. “Yesss, fuck!” Harry yells, pulling Louis back to the task at hand.

Harry begging to be fucked is something Louis can handle. He won't fuck him dry though. No matter how much Harry begs, he won't do that.

Louis releases Harry so that he can grab the lube from his bedside table. He's only gone for a few seconds, but when he turns back around, Harry's head is thrashing back and forth against his pillow. His body is strung out, glistening with a sheen of sweat and his hands are clutching the sheets in an effort to stop touching himself.

He's an absolute vision. Louis must take too long admiring him because Harry's eyes pop open, wildly searching for him. His back arches up from the mattress when he catches Louis watching him. “Please Lou.”

In a flash, Louis is back, dragging three slicked up fingers in lazy circles around Harry's rim. His hole is already clenching and Louis hasn't even pushed inside yet. It's mesmerizing. Louis could stare at this all night long, but Harry isn't having it. A fresh sob escapes his throat, desperation pushing him closer to the edge.

It was never Louis’ intention to keep Harry on edge in the first place. Not tonight anyway. He knows what he needs because he needs the same so he pushes two fingers inside Harry knuckle deep.

He's impossibly hot and tight around his fingers, so much so that Louis has to grip the base of his own cock to prevent himself from coming before ever getting inside of him. “You're so good, baby. So good for me. So tight. Fuck.” A babbled string of nonsensical praise falls from his lips lips as he fingers Harry open.

Harry keens, chanting, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Then demands while fucking himself on Louis’ fingers, “Another!”

The third finger slides in easily beside the others and Louis makes quick work of opening Harry. He's more than ready. They both are, so he withdraws his fingers, drizzles more lube along his length, spreads it with a quick pass of his hand and then finally pushes inside Harry.

It's sooner than he would typically feel comfortable with, but sometimes his boy likes to feel a little pain. He tells Louis it's because he likes to feel him for longer and Louis suspects that's what he needs now. At the very least it's what Harry wants so Louis is determined to give it to him.

The push isn't slow, but sure and steady. Within seconds Louis is fully encased in white-hot heat and he stops, panting to catch his breath, his eyes squeezed shut, an attempt to ground himself.

“Fuck me.” Harry's words are equally determined if not more so. Louis opens his eyes and is met with a dark green stare. His lips are swollen, body slightly trembling and his words come again, more forcefully this time. “Come on, Lou. Fuck me.”

So he does.

He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in much less slowly than the first time. Less gently too.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry exclaims. Those two words ignite a fire.

Louis pushes in again. And again. Over and over, he sets a punishing pace, snapping his hips. He finds Harry’s prostate after a few thrusts and aims for it each time, his balls slapping against Harry’s arse.

It sounds obscene.

Louis loves it.

Harry meets him halfway, giving as good as he gets. His feet dig into the back of Louis’ thighs as he arches off their bed forcing Louis even deeper. His nails scratch down Louis’ back and it burns where Harry leaves his marks.

And Louis loves that too.

They'll both be sore in different ways tomorrow. Later today rather, but that's details really. The two of them burn fast and fierce which is what Louis expected after Harry's first desperate plea. So it's no surprise that Louis’ close to coming undone already. One look at Harry reassures him that he's not alone.

With his hair a sweaty mess, eyes blown, lips swollen, and body trembling: he’s so beautiful it hurts. Louis reaches down, barely getting a hand wrapped around Harry’s cock before he's shouting expletives, and streams of come paint both of their bellies.

“Fucking hell,” Louis chokes out as his eyes roll back and he starts pulsing inside of Harry before he's even finished. They ride their orgasms out together before collapsing into a disgusting mess against one another.

Not even ten minutes have passed since Louis first glanced at the clock.

~~~

 

So much for cleaning the sheets. They're filthy again, but Harry is too fucked out to care. Louis is sprawled on top of him and Harry can feel his heart racing. It matches his own.

They lay like that for a few minutes, before Louis finally rolls over to grab the wet wipes from the drawer. He wipes both of their fronts off before reaching down between Harry's legs to where he's already started to leak. He winces at the cool sensation, already feeling a little sore.

“Okay?” Louis asks him, concerned.

“Yeah.”

He will be.

Louis seems unconvinced, but continues his ministrations regardless, cleaning them up enough that they're able to avoid a midnight shower. Luckily, the sheets aren't fully destroyed so they won't have to move beds which is a blessing because Harry couldn't move right now even if he tried.

He lays there quietly, willing his heart rate to return to normal as Louis finishes cleaning them up. When Louis opens his arms for Harry to crawl into them, he goes willingly, happy to reassume his role as the little spoon.

It's the middle of the night and Harry's eyes should be drifting shut. Warm safe arms are wrapped snug around him, offering him safety and protection. It feels like love. Like home.

He should have already fallen back asleep, but his mind won't cooperate. He's thinking about something that Louis had brought up earlier. An alternative place and time. And before he can stop himself, the words fall out, upsetting the quiet that's settled around them.

“Do you ever think about it?” Harry whispers.

“About what?”

“Like. How it might've been if Simon hadn't cared so much? If he'd just….”

“Let us be together?” Louis finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I think about it, Haz.”

“I do too.”

The room grows quiet again, both of them exhausted and likely lost in the dream. Of what could've been. In another place and time.

Where they were allowed to be in love.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading:)  
> The last chp will be up tomorrow :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter so I'm feeling a bit emo. I never planned to write this fic....it just kind of happened. So to those who have read this far, thank you so much!!! And to those who commented or left kudos, thank you even more <3 Your support has meant so much to me :))
> 
> As always, thank you to  Nic for all of your help...you made this fic so much better and I will be forever grateful! Also a huge thank you to  Roni for being the best cheerleader and brit pick! I love you both a lot <3

In a perfect world, they would have woken up the next day with everything magically fixed: with rehearsals and promo for  _ Four _ back on track, Simon's threats a distant memory, and the two of them happy, still very much in love. 

Needless to say, this world is far from perfect. But two out of three’s not bad. Of course, Simon's threats make it impossible for any of them to truly relax, but they're back to rehearsals and promo for their new album so that's a positive. 

And the two of them?

They're going to be okay. Over the last few days, a few more conversations were had, each one with less tears than the one prior. Except for the last one. That one  _ did _ end in tears, but they were happy ones so surely that doesn't count. 

_ “It's so beautiful, Lou.” Harry looks down at the ring and then back up at him with stars shining brightly in his eyes. They’re moist from tears that threaten to fall.  _

_ “I just want you to know that I'm in this, Haz. And the future we planned together? I still want that. All of it. Even the cat. I don't want you to ever doubt me. Or us. No matter what we might be up against.” _

_ Harry glances down at his finger, at the blue stones embedded in the ring, and then looks back up at Louis, this time with tears staining his cheeks. “God, I want that too. All of it. Even the dog.” _

_ “Marry me then, Harry? Not today, but someday. Please...say you’ll marry me?” _

_ “Yes,” Harry answers simply and then crawls into Louis’ lap, immediately wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his neck.  _

_ This isn't the first time Louis’ proposed, but given the current circumstances, it's probably the most important.  _

_ “The stones remind me of your eyes.” Harry pulls back from his neck and tells him reverently. He's stroking a fingertip over the ring again, making it clear how much he loves it.  _

_ Harry once told him that he fell for him straight away, the first time he looked into his eyes. ‘Like falling into a pool.’ He'd confessed. And then being the sap that he is, he tweeted about it as well.  _

_ “I kind of hoped that they might.”  _

_ Louis chose this ring specifically because the stones reminded him of a swimming pool. He bought it in hopes that Harry would look at it and be reminded of simpler days, of falling in love. So when Louis can't reach out like he wants to? When he can't hold Harry's hand? Harry can look down at the ring as a reminder. Perhaps it can be a balm. Especially during times of duress. _

_ “Thank you for forgiving me,” Harry says quietly. Louis has told him countless times to stop apologizing, that they need to move forward, but Harry's having a hard time forgiving himself. _

_ “Thank you for saying ‘yes.’” Louis tries once again to lighten the mood. When he told Harry that it was time to move forward, he meant it. He leans forward and presses his lips against Harry's, smiling when he feels him sigh happily into the kiss.  _

So they’re engaged. Again. They promised each other a future together. But in the meantime, they’re keeping up the pretense of avoiding one another whilst working. Niall and Liam were right about that after all. It's buying them some time with Simon, allowing them to figure some things out as a group. 

“The fans have come up with a new theory,” Harry tells him a few days later as they're lying in bed facing one another. He strokes a gentle finger across Louis’ collarbones. 

“Yeah?” Louis replies, curious as to what they've come up with this time. Their fans are always dreaming up theories. It can be scary sometimes, how close they come to getting it right. 

This isn't one of those times, though. “Well, what is it?” Louis asks when Harry fails to elaborate. 

“They think we're planning to come out.” 

“That's not exactly a new theory, Haz.”

“No, but the traffic light part is.”

“The what?” Louis asks because this part  _ is  _ new. 

“They think that we’ve been sending signs about management’s readiness. Traffic light colors. And that we're in a holding pattern now. Stuck on yellow.”

It smarts because more than anything, they'd both like for that to be true. For them to be sitting at anything other than red. If they had their way, they would've been out since the beginning. Hell, anyone with eyes who watched the video diaries could plainly see that they had feelings for one another. They didn’t even to try to hide it back then, too busy being young and in love to consider censoring themselves. Neither of them had chosen the closet. It was thrust upon them against their will. 

Louis remains quiet for a moment, his hand rubbing small circles on Harry's soft hip. Their fans are too optimistic for their own good. God, if they only knew. Their team has had them road blocked since day one. 

“That's kind of sad,” Louis finally muses out loud. “Because they're gonna end up feeling let down, you know?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies softly. 

They both know that they don't owe anyone anything. Not even their fans who love and support them relentlessly. They appreciate them more than words can say, but they don't owe them this. Even if they were able to be out, they would be doing it for themselves. 

Still, it's hard. Many of their fans are members of the same community and not being able to reach out hurts. Not having a voice in their own community is heartbreaking. 

“I'm gonna try to tell them. Let them down easy,” Harry continues. “I'll tweet something cryptic. The ones who are paying attention will figure it out.”

“Okay, Haz.” It has to be cryptic. Otherwise it will never make it past the screening process. This won’t be the first time that they try to subvert the system. 

Louis leans forward and presses their lips together. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore. Their private time together is limited and Louis would much rather spend it happy and not depressed about the things they can't yet have. 

~~~

 

**_Traffic Light_ ** . That's the first tweet. It unleashes a frenzy in certain parts of the fandom. It’s unfortunate because Harry isn't actually acknowledging the theory as correct. He's just letting them know that they've seen it, that they're aware that the theory exists. 

**_Draw what you see._ ** That's his next tweet. It's a plea to all sides of the fandom, asking them to pay close attention. They've come up with some ideas about how to send signals. They'll be coming from Harry more often than not since the team tends to go easier on him. Their fans need to be paying attention, though. If they are, then they'll question the party line Simon's planning to feed them. But everything they say and do has to be in code so Harry implores them with this tweet.  _ Draw what you see. _

“Do you think they'll get it?” Harry's asks him later that day. 

“I don't know, love,” Louis answers honestly. “But I hope they do.”

“Me too.” Harry sighs. They're both frustrated, but they won't give up. They won't stop trying. 

The realization that their backs were pretty much against a wall was a tough pill to swallow. Their only option was to go rogue. So they made countless phone calls. And they received some good advice on ways to quietly refute the narrative without risking breach. 

“Plausible deniability,” the boys’ newly-appointed private attorney advised them. 

“What does that even mean?” Liam asked. 

“Simply put, there can’t be any evidence of your participation. If you intend to fight against the narratives which you’re bound to by contract, then you need to do it covertly. If your actions can be drawn back to you and identified as purposeful, then you risk breach. But if you can find a loophole—a means to communicate without it being connected back to you? Then you have a chance of subverting the system. Or in this case, Simon.”

It’s risky, but worth it. There’s nothing they can do to stop Simon, but they can fight back in small ways that matter. They can try to minimize the collateral damage: so long as they maintain plausible deniability. 

And in the meantime? They’ll make as many connections as possible within the music industry. They’ll lay the pavement for a more favorable contract in the future. Because eventually Simon's time will run out and they intend to be ready.

Their first power play is initiated by Harry during a joint interview with Liam. He invites the world to question his sexuality. To wonder if he really was the teenage womanizer they portrayed him to be. Or if there's more to the story than meets the eye. 

**_It's not that important._ ** The press goes crazy. The fans go crazy. 

But so does Simon. 

“Lou.” Harry's voice sounds panicked. 

“What's wrong, baby? Are you okay?” Louis asks him. 

“Simon wants to meet with me.” Louis can hear the fear coming through the phone in waves. They expected this. There's no way that Simon was going to let Harry get away with the little stunt he pulled. So they expected retribution. But it's still scary. 

“Where are you?” Louis asks, already grabbing his keys. 

~~~

 

Staring at the door isn't doing anything to calm their nerves, but here they are. They won't be able to turn back after this. They've bought some time and made some plans, but the clock has officially ran out. 

Harry needs to steel himself. He takes a deep breath and glances towards Louis before reaching for the handle. Time freezes for a moment as blue meets green. Their gazes hold steady as his heart beats loudly in his chest. Louis nods his head one time and Harry turns the handle, stepping into Simon's office.

“Harry. Good.” Simon smiles at him, but it's twisted. Infused with evil intent. And it drops from his face a second later when Louis steps into the room beside him. Harry immediately links their fingers together, his heart rabbiting in his chest. 

“Louis.” Simon's voice is flat. “I must say. I didn't expect to see you today. This is quite a surprise.” 

“Well, if I'm to understand correctly, this has everything to do with me. Isn't that right, Simon?”

Simon's face darkens to an unattractive shade of red. He's positively fuming. “I see you made your choice then, Harry.”

“I did.” Harry states firmly, squeezing Louis’ hand at the same time. The strength of his conviction surprises even himself. He levels his eyes to Simon, refusing to look away or even to blink. 

“Well boys. I hope that you're prepared because this is about to get ugly.”

“It doesn't need to,” Louis suggests from beside him. And he's right. It doesn't. Simon could choose to be reasonable. Sadly, they both know that he won't. 

Simon's answering laugh is borderline satanic. “Gentleman, I'm a businessman. I have an investment to protect. Surely you can understand.”

It's one thing to know what might be coming to you, but quite another to  _ know _ . This was never going to be easy, they both knew that. That's why they've been assembling a quiet army behind them. 

Still, they hoped that maybe they were wrong. They prayed they wouldn’t need it, that Simon would come to his senses. The prospect of embarking on this battle for the duration of their contract is daunting. 

“Everyone's got a choice to make,” Harry states confidently. “I was reminded of this recently and I almost made the wrong one. But you have a choice to make, too, Simon.” He pauses for emphasis. “You can choose to be good.”

Harry can feel Louis’ pulse racing through their fingertips or maybe it's his. Either way, the room remains deathly quiet for an unholy amount of time as Simon stares at them in disgust with his hands steepled in front of him. 

“I think we're done here, boys,” Simon finally states. They've been dismissed. 

Nodding their heads, they walk back out to the hall with their hands still linked together. As soon as the door closes behind them, Louis wraps Harry in a tight embrace. 

Harry breathes him in, but can't hear what he's saying. Static noise rings in his ears, so loud it's deafening. Louis adjusts the two of them so that their foreheads can rest against one another, encouraging Harry without words to match his slow intakes of breath. He waits patiently for him to stop hyperventilating before he starts murmuring again. 

“—so proud of you, baby.” The tail end of Louis’ words seep through the static and they make him smile. Louis continues to whisper-praise him in between small peppered kisses to his face. “Let's go home,” he finally says to Harry.

So that's what they do.

It's not until they're on the way there that they realize that Simon didn’t issue a consequence for Harry's transgression. It's a sobering thought. 

~~~

 

A few days later Louis wears a vintage Apple rainbow shirt in honor of the CEO of Apple who just came out. And he doesn't just casually wear it. He wears it  _ with pride _ . With his jacket wide open, the rainbow is highly visible as he walks down the street, in front of the paparazzi, donning a bright smile. He knows his message will be heard by those listening. 

He wears it to  _ The X Factor _ where it's guaranteed to be captured on camera. Their fans lose their minds across all social media platforms. Simon sits right beside him with a fake smile plastered on his face and though Louis can feel the anger radiating from him, he doesn't care. This is his own quiet rebellion. He's showing his allegiance and he won't let Simon ruin it for him. 

Of course he ruins it anyway. 

Not that day, but three days later. 

Two days after Louis’ X Factor appearance the boys do a live stream as part of their  _ Four  _ promo. Right before they go live, Louis is informed that Ben will be asking them about any rumors they want to dispel. Their team makes it clear that they expect him to cite his and Harry's relationship. They want a denial.

“What's the oddest rumor you've heard about yourselves?” Ben asks. Louis’ body tenses up and his blood feels like it’s been turned down a few degrees.

Their team has specifically set this up as payback for Harry going rogue. It now has the added benefit of punishing Louis for daring to step out of line with the rainbow Apple shirt. It's cruel, especially to the fans who are watching and expecting to see creative promotion for  _ Four _ . Little do they know, the 1DFourHangout is really just a vehicle that's been devised to promote their team's narrative. 

“I think we’ve all been dead a couple of times,” Harry responds flatly.

It’s clearly not the answer the team was gunning for and Ben looks irritated.  _ Good.  _

“Anything apart from death?” Ben tries again.  _ What a fucking dick. _ Louis has never wanted to punch someone more in his life and Zayn looks as if he might actually do it.

“I’m sure there is,” Louis replies, far from helpful. “Nothing,” he finishes quietly, a whisper spoken under his breath. His voice may be quiet, but his insides are lit with rage. 

It's so ugly. The entire stream ends up being a joke, but nobody's laughing. All five of them appear visibly agitated, refusing to play along, and Ben comes across as an arrogant prick. The team doesn’t get what they asked for and neither do the fans. Everyone loses.

Especially Louis. 

The payback for this particular transgression is unthinkable. 

The very next day, his team logs onto his Twitter account and tweets a reputable journalist who's written a positive article about Louis’ support of Tim Cook.  **_The fact that you work for such a ‘credible’ paper and you would talk such rubbish is laughable. I am in fact straight._ ** And then a second one, as if that wasn't bad enough.  **_Fucking ridiculous I even have to tweet that shit !_ **

It's devastating. To him. To Harry. Not to mention a huge chunk of their fan base. Some of their strongest, most vocal supporters jump ship. And Louis can't even blame them. His team has effectively painted him as a homophobic douchebag in a thirty-two word rant. He'd unstan himself too if the tables were turned. How were their fans to know any better?

“They have to know it's not you tweeting,” Harry reasons with him after the fact. 

“A lot of them  _ did _ think it was me, though. Did you see some of those replies Haz?” Louis shudders, recalling some of the more unpleasant ones. “God, it's like they hate me.” 

“Well anyone who does doesn’t deserve you, Lou. Because that’s not who you are. You're not that person. We’ll just have to find another way to show people, that’s all.” This is one of the best parts about their relationship, the way that they take care of one another. The way that Harry becomes a rock when Louis’ lost the ability to be one himself. 

So he lets Harry pull him into his chest. And he lets him trace soft shapes on his back as they lie tangled up together. It hurts having his own identity attacked like this. The public is fickle and they both know this. They won't remember how proud he was to be wearing such an important shirt. They'll only remember the aftermath. 

Louis quietly cries himself to sleep that night in Harry's arms. It’s the second time in less than a month that he assumes the role of small spoon.

~~~

 

**What a lovely view.** Harry captions a photograph of a brick wall. It's one of his saltiest and most ironic tweets to date. And quite frankly, it's perfect because it feels like that's what they've been banging their heads against. 

Simon had quickly pulled them into another meeting where he made his position crystal clear. “We think Harry has what it takes to build a successful solo career. And we need to start thinking five steps ahead to get ready for it. It could take well over a year to set the ball in motion. Boy bands don’t have a long shelf life. Surely you realize your time’s running out.”

“What about the The Beatles?” Harry hurls back at him without hesitation. Harry, more than any of them, doesn't like when people minimize their talent just because they're members of a boy band.  _ That shouldn't dictate anything.  _ He's gone off about it countless times. 

“You honestly think  _ One Direction _ can be compared to The Beatles? To music royalty?” Simon spits back, his words dripping with venom. 

“Well, actually,” Louis jumps in. “There are quite a lot of parallels—”

“Boys,” Simon interrupts. “I'll save you the time. This isn't a negotiation. We  _ will _ be priming Harry for solo material.” 

“I never even asked for this, though. I'm happy with the other boys,” Harry insists. 

Louis knows this is true. Back in the day, they’d all had dreams of becoming solo artists, but dreams change. None of them have actively pursued solo work since they auditioned for  _ The X Factor _ . Harry included. 

“Your happiness is not my concern. It’s a clause. Written into your contracts.” Simon smiles sardonically, letting them know that what Harry wants is of no importance. All that matters is what Simon wants and Simon wants solo Harry.

_ What will become of the band?  _ From the corner of his eye he can see Harry’s jaw set in anger and his fists clenched tightly by his sides.

God, Louis hates Simon. By failing to mention the rest of them, he effectively dismissed them as contenders for similar projects. Once upon a time, Louis had actually looked up to this man. But that ship had long since sailed, leaving behind a bucketful of hatred and distrust.

Their team wants Harry to sign on as a solo artist. As a  _ straight  _ solo artist. It really shouldn't have hit them as such a surprise. After all, it's what they've been grooming him for all along. 

There's only one thing standing in their way. And that's Louis. 

~~~

 

Later that same night, Harry desperately pleads his case as they wait for the other boys to arrive at their flat. “I swear I didn't ask for this, Lou. I don't even want it.”

“Shh. I know you didn't, Haz. I know.” Louis rubs his hands up and down Harry's arms in an attempt to calm him. 

“You know that's not what he told me in that private meeting, though? Please tell me you believe me.” Harry is clearly panicked. He doesn't want Louis—or any of them—to think that he's gone behind their backs. 

And Louis _does_ know. Harry would never do such a thing. Simon had given him an ultimatum, but never specified _why_. He made threats without reason and even then, Harry still hadn't gone along with his plan. Not in the end. 

“I know, baby. Of course I believe you. I know,” Louis assures him again. 

Harry was given a choice, though at the time, it wasn't clear why. He could split from Louis and spare him a horrific set of consequences. Or not. And then Louis would be punished relentlessly. They all questioned  _ why _ at the time because the band already was extremely successful despite the two of them being together the whole time. But now the answer is clear. 

Harry's been targeted as Simon's future cash cow. And Louis is an obstacle, standing in the path of success. So they need to eliminate him.

There was a room full of suits sitting behind Simon at today's meeting. They outlined all of the sordid details. The instant any of the boys step out of line or challenge their contracts, Simon will not hesitate to take them for all they're worth. And it won't be a matter of simply draining their bank accounts.  _ No.  _ He will  _ destroy _ them. He has the power of the press on his side and he's both capable and willing. None of them would work in the music industry again.

It’s a terrifying thought, that. “I don’t know what I’d be,” Louis muses out loud, his eyes gazing off into the distance as he ponders it. “If I’m no longer a musician, I mean.”

This time it’s Harry’s hands that massage him reassuringly. “You’re not going to find out, Lou. You  _ are _ a musician. You  _ are _ .”

Louis hopes that Harry’s right, but the back of his mind pulls at him just the same.  _ What am I? If I’m not this, then what am I? _

~~~

 

“It doesn't have to be an either or situation, does it?” Liam asks the group. 

The rest of the boys stare at him curiously. 

“Plenty of bands take breaks to work on solo material and then end up reuniting,” Liam suggests. 

They're all quiet, mulling over his words. Nobody mentions the fact that the majority of the time when bands split, its permanent. Though Louis is one hundred percent thinking it.

“I don't like it.” Niall finally breaks the silence, turning his back to them and walking out of the room. He returns a few second later with a beer in hand. “Actually, I hate it.”

“I'm not sure it matters whether or not you like it Niall. They're not exactly giving us a choice,” Louis offers. It's complicated, their team’s plans. Niall has as much reason to dislike it as Louis. They all do, in fact. That doesn't mean they have the power to stop them. 

The best they can do is to quietly rebel against the false headlines and narratives that will be rolling out over the next few months. Because it's not going to be pretty. Their team has made it clear that they have no problem destroying Louis and he's quite sure that they won't hesitate to drag the others down as well, especially if they get in the way. 

Of course they can also continue what they've already started which is to privately shop around for a new label and representation for the group. Because their shelf life may be limited with Sony, but their road doesn't have to end with Simon just because that's where it began. 

“How long do we have left as a group?” Niall asks Harry and Louis. “We just started promoting  _ Four _ . The next tour’s already been booked.”. 

“A while yet. They want us to continue with the tour and they even talked about squeezing out another album before disbanding us,” Louis answers. 

“How long?” Zayn asks again. 

“One year,” Harry replies quietly. “One more year. And they plan to shove as much down people's throats as possible before pulling the plug.”

“And we can't buy ourselves out of the rest of our contract? Continue on as a group under a different label?” Liam asks. 

“We can't afford it, Li. Band’s worth too much. Bit ironic innit?” Louis responds. It’s beyond frustrating. Louis has been over this in his mind again and again, but it’s all right there in the numbers. They can’t afford it. It would bankrupt them.

“Well, we should at least try to negotiate.” Zayn suggests. “If they plan on putting a deadline on the group so they can foster Harry's solo career—”

“I didn't ask them to. I don't even want this,” Harry snaps, his brows furrowed and hands slightly trembling. “You know how I get on stage. I don't even think—” 

His skin is pale and he looks like he's gonna be sick just from thinking about it. Harry's stage fright is a very real and scary thing. It doesn't happen all the time, but it happens enough. He relies heavily on the others—on Louis especially—to help him through rough patches. Imagining taking the stage on his own is doing a number on him. 

“I know you didn't, Harry.” Zayn softens his voice. “Just hear me out.” It seems to calm Harry, but only just slightly. Zayn continues anyway. They have to talk about this no matter how uncomfortable it makes them. This is their livelihood, after all. 

“If they're set on ‘solo artist Harry’ fulfilling the remaining contractual obligations, there might not be much we can do. But we should still try to negotiate. There are certain concessions they might be willing to make.”

“Our bargaining power is stronger now than it was before,” Louis finishes Zayn’s thoughts for him, his mind buzzing with a tiny sliver of hope. “We have something they want. Back when we first signed contracts we were counting on  _ them _ , but the tables have turned since then. They're counting on  _ us  _ now. 

“Okay, but what would we be negotiating? More favorable terms for Harry  _ if _ he agrees to this?” Liam asks. 

“Yes that.” Zayn looks around the room thoughtfully. “But we should also think of asking them to release the rest of us.”

“You'd leave me alone.” Harry is despondent and looks even more pale if that's possible. Niall has stopped drinking and Liam seems to be frozen in place. 

“They’ll never release the band. Not even if Harry agrees to sign on solo.” Louis argues, partially because he believes this to be true and partially to reassure Harry that the band wouldn’t continue on without him. 

“I'm not talking about the band. I'm talking about them releasing four other potential solo artists,” Zayn insists. “So that we can be free to pursue similar opportunities.”

“Are you suggesting that we disband?” Niall asks disbelievingly. 

“No! Well, yes,” Zayn relents. “But not permanently. Just until we fulfill the brand contract. When our contract expires, we can come back together. Stronger. Wiser. And under a new label.”

The conversation stops abruptly when Harry leaves the room to throw up. Nothing ends up getting solved that night. Niall gets drunk, Liam and Zayn play video games and Louis quietly contemplates their future as Harry lays beside him with his head resting in Louis’ lap. He cards his hands through Harry's hair mindlessly as he watches their uncertain future carve worry lines into all of his friend’s faces. 

~~~

 

**There's no such green.** This one’s incredibly bittersweet. He includes an Instagram link to a black and white photograph of their hands. Harry's new ring features prominently and Louis’ hand rests above his in a symbol of affinity. The message should be clear. 

They are together, but there will be no coming outs. Not anytime soon. Whether the fans who are invested in their relationship will understand remains to be seen. 

“They're gonna be upset,” Harry tells Louis after posting it. 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. There's nothing else he can say really. They are. And they’re not the only ones.

“It’s a good picture, H.” It’s a small conciliation and they both know it.

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice is quiet as he rests his hand on top of Louis’, reversing the image that’s blowing up their notifications. Louis lets them sit that way for a moment before flipping his hand over and threading their fingers together. 

“I love you,” he tells Harry simply.

“Love you too,” Harry replies, his smile small, but sweet just the same.

Promotion for  _ Four _ continues on with more of this. With more of Harry walking a fine line. With tweets, photos, and suggestive commentary during interviews, he keeps both their fans and their team on high alert. His refusal to be locked into their team's implied heterosexual agenda is impressive. And the photos suggesting that he's speaking to industry heavyweights? Those are even moreso. 

It's not enough, but it's as much as they can do. 

~~~

  
  


**_Does the little one with the cheekbones know that the prince is in love with him?_** They don't see _everything_ that happens in the fandom, but this one was hard to miss. 

Harry couldn't help himself from growing sentimental over the lyrics to “Night Changes”. It  _ did _ feel as if everything was changing. 

And suddenly he needed Louis to know. Even though they'd already said the words to one another in private. He wanted to publicly declare that he wasn't going to let these changes change the two of them. 

So, Harry sang his parts of “Night Changes” directly to Louis during the AMAs. Blatantly. On national television. And people noticed. People that didn't even know them noticed. And that comment in particular went viral. Harry won't even pretend to be a little sorry, though. 

“‘M not little,” Louis grumbles. Harry smiles into the top of Louis’ head, but remains quiet. “‘S just cause your boots have heels, you know.” 

“I know, love,” Harry replies gently. 

“Makes you look taller than you are.” Harry bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud. “You're not much taller than me.”

“I know,” he repeats. Louis is incredibly endearing when he pouts. 

“You did look like a prince, though. I'll give them that much,” Louis admits, snuggling further into Harry's warm body. 

“You looked beautiful, Lou. You always do. But last night? You were stunning.”

“Shut up and cuddle me.” Louis doesn't take compliments very well. They make him blush, turning him instantly shy and tongue tied. So naturally, Harry showers him with as many compliments as possible. 

“Okay, little one.” Harry teases him and then gasps when he gets elbowed in the ribs. He definitely deserved it. 

They giggle quietly, trying not to disturb the other boys. Everyone's exhausted from their relentless schedule, not to mention the added stress of an unknown future. 

“Oh hey. I almost forgot to tell you. Bondi is gonna fit me and Zayn in while we're there,” Louis tells him. 

“Are you gonna get it then?” Harry asks. He knows exactly what Louis is planning as it's been planned for ages now. 

“Yeah. I want you to write something out for me first, though.” 

“Yeah? What's that?” Harry asks, intrigued. It won't be the first time Louis’ tattooed Harry's handwriting on his skin, but it's thrilling nonetheless. 

“I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep now?” Louis asks. 

“Sleep,” Harry agrees, his voice deep and thick with exhaustion. 

So that's exactly what they do. They drift off cuddled together, with the roar of the plane’s engine their backdrop. 

~~~

 

“Let me see!” Harry demands the minute their hotel room door clicks shut behind Louis. He's sat up in bed wearing only a pair of red briefs. There's a pair of black rimmed glasses perched upon his nose and his hair is loosely twisted up into a bun. Louis had half-expected him to be passed out already. It's early in the morning, after all. 

Bondi managed to squeeze both him and Zayn in after the Arias, but the tattoos hadn't been exactly small so it had taken a while. Of course international travel had destroyed their internal clocks so he supposes it's really not that much of a surprise that Harry's awake. That or he's just really excited. Which. Is understandable. 

“Come on!” Harry urges him because Louis' still stood at the door, staring down at his boy fondly. He's so soft and lovely like this. Harry bounces up and down, slapping the bed, annoyed that Louis’ keeping him waiting.  _ Lovely, but impatient _ . 

Louis glances down at his forearm to inspect his newest ink. The protective wrap is clear so he can still make out the words. 

The dagger matches Harry's rose, perfectly, in both size as well as position. Together, they make a complete set. It’s not their first set of complimentary tattoos and likely not their last; though it's arguably the most important. 

Louis’ new tattoos contain three declarations collectively, but the fandom will only recognize one of them. Two at the most. 

The first and most obvious is the dagger which sends a firm message to their fans.  _ We're still together. _ They've been predicting this one for ages now. Mass chaos will ensue the instant the pictures surface. There's little to no doubt about it. “Do you think they'll break the internet?” Harry asked just before he and Zayn left for their appointments. Louis just shook his head fondly. Their fans might break the internet someday, but it would be over something decidedly bigger. 

The second declaration is intended for their team.  _ We will not be broken.  _ They're willing to fight for their love. Their fans might miss this part, but their team most decidedly will not. It might as well have been done in war paint. At least this way, it's permanent. 

“Louisssss,” Harry whines. Louis laughs at him as he approaches the bed. When he reaches him, Louis hides his arm behind his back, denying him for a moment longer. 

Harry promptly tackles him to the bed, though and Louis is instantly overcome with the bright green eyes staring down at him, promising delicious things. He caves immediately, holding his arm out for Harry's inspection. 

For a long drawn out minute, the room is silent, filled with just the sound of their quiet breathing. Harry is frozen, hovered above Louis as he stares down. But the spell breaks when he inhales shakily and reaches one finger out, trailing it lightly around the words. 

_ Given a Chance.  _ It's the third declaration and this one’s just for Harry. For them really. They'd promised this to one another, but somehow, seeing the words in permanent ink means significantly more. It means everything. 

“Louis.” Harry's voice cracks, shattering the silence. He lifts his gaze, finally meeting Louis’ eyes. “I love it.” His eyes are suspiciously moist, making the green shine even brighter. “It's beautiful.” 

“You would say that. It's your handwriting, after all.” Louis grins at Harry and earns himself a love slap. 

“Stop that. Don't ruin this for me,” Harry bites back, but with very little bite; he's smiling down at Louis like he's some kind of miracle. Making light of meaningful things is one of Louis’ worst habits. Whenever things feel too big, he tends to downplay them so that he can lessen the pull on his chest. Harry's right, though. This shouldn't be minimized. Promising someone forever is a pretty big deal. It feels even more significant given their extreme set of circumstances. 

“‘M sorry, baby,” Louis apologizes easily. 

“I meant it, you know,” Harry tells him simply as he stares down at him with wet eyes. 

“Me too,” Louis answers him honestly. 

They lean into one another at the same time, pressing their lips together in amazement, relishing each gasp of breath and every swipe of the tongue. 

“I love you,” Harry tells him as reverent hands pull his shirt from his body, stripping him. 

“Love you too, baby,” Louis tells him as his pants follow his shirt and their bodies push closer together. 

Today's a good day. There are bound to be many days in the upcoming months that aren't, so Louis savors this. Catalogs it away for later in case they need it. 

They promised one another forever, and that's how long these words will be written into Louis’ skin. They echo back at him, in ink that matches Harry’s. Perhaps they'll tell the truth about their tattoos someday, about the pictures and words that adorn them. Maybe even to children of their own. 

But for now, they remain what they are.  _ A promise _ . 

 

_ ~fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :D
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, kudos and comments are much appreciated. Also, if you're so inclined, here is a rebloggable  post.


End file.
